Pause Rewind Rethink
by requim17
Summary: Trainslet. Pause, now rewind. Who remembers Chapter 81, where Train tells Rins that if Creed fails, he would 'take his place' ? ...Tiramisu, just for you, I promise, I will finish this story this year (2013), even if it's just a chapter.
1. For the Sun to Die

**Well, here's my story that I've sorta been promising for, like, ever. Hahaha, sorry, just wanted to throw in a like.. this is sorta like a prelude to the whole thing, not many important things happenin this chapter. I still hope it keeps y'all occupied though... I've forgotten the many things I've wanted to say.**

**Disclaimer: no.**

**O ya! I wanted to dedicate this to the now CrypticAngel... she helped me so much with this story. This is probably the only dedication I'll ever make, but if you really want one tell me. **

**O gosh here I am talking to reviewers that I don't even have. Story! --->**

* * *

Sephiria Arks sat staring out the window in her room devoid of life. Below her was the city, oh the city with all its lights and sounds, and how the soul so easily becomes attached to it, thrives off of it. How enticing was it to whirl around in a bout of color, oblivious to all but what needed to be seen. But now as she looked down upon it, how pointless was it? How pathetic? Where was life in that? For all its excitement, where was its feeling? She was so lost now.

Looking down on her open palms, she examined her delicate fingers. Hers. Were they hers? Designed to grip the sword, to wield its thin blade of power. The shadows from the lights below danced thin tendrils across them. What sins have these fingers caused? Ten fingers, made only to ruin thousands.

A sharp intake of breath as she clenched those palms over the reflective orihalcon metal. So easily were they scarred. A thin line of blood would run down her hand, the same on the inside, connecting her to every other organism on the planet. Except that it wasn't the same. Already it would begin to heal, faster than any normal individual, any normal human. Why pretend to protect them? Who _was_ "them" anyway? How did protecting them change anything, even better, change herself?

A hand moved to rest on her shoulder. Shocking her back to this reality. Belze…how had he gotten so close without her noticing? He must be getting better.. She couldn't be getting worse.

"Sephiria.." he murmured, gently removing his hand. He paused, she could see the words swimming behind his eyes. Maybe he was just as lost as her, just as confused. "The Elders have called for you." he finally spoke, almost in a resigned tone, and moving to the side he bowed his head.

Her eyes focused on him, studying him. He seemed to waver before her, his stoic form seeming to bend in impossible ways. Only for a moment they remained like this, before she lightly stood to her feet and silently slipped her sword into its sheath.

"Thank you," again the turmoil, what was she to call him? How important was a name? ".. Belze."

* * *

"Number X," Sephiria had just finished her meeting with the Elders, and was now standing outside of the normal chamber. She didn't know where he had gotten the arrogance, but he had been standing outside the door while attempting to pick up some of her words. "I don't know where you got this imagined jurisdiction, but if you don't stand down promptly, you can be sure of immediate punishment."

"Leader, please calm yourself, I am only making a suggestion."

Shaolee Lin was acting his normal role, as of late. This new, even more fervent, contemplative Sephiria had effected much of the organization. He had taken it upon himself, for the entire team and surrounding world, to gather the information that Sephiria had formerly pushed herself to do. He wanted, almost desired all the information he could possibly find. The human mind was fascinating beyond anything he had ever touched upon. The different ways it would react, and the extent to which it would push it's own self when the body became worthless was something that he could never find unless he experienced it. He waited for the epiphany every moment he took in the air to sustain him, the hope for more knowledge of the vast spectrum of humanity keeping him clinging to the art which is life.

"You know not to ignore the Elder's orders. What they say is true, and a fathomable occurrence. I urge you to reconsider; do what is best for the organization."

The glint of her sword fell upon his resting sash, strewn across his shoulder. He forged a simulation of a shocked face, that is the most likely reaction that the mind would reach. Oh how he reveled in these moments.

"Mr. Lin, it would be best to not meddle with affairs larger than yourself." Her arm was poised delicately in preparation for attack, moments away from releasing the chaos that only a soul of great passion could expend. His mind began to wander, how would her mind react, the brain behind the most important human activities, if he were to suddenly reach out and sever that beautiful arm from it's host? Anger? Or shock? He doubted, a intellect of that value could never show the emotions of the pathetic underdeveloped.

"Death is not always the answer" so swiftly as it had been unsheathed upon him, it was replaced. And as swiftly as she had confronted him, she had gone, to withdraw back to that room that she so often locked herself in. Was she to search the cavities that he so revered?

He tugged at a lock of his hair. Such thoughts were futile, even if enthralling. He had Number VIII to deal with again, and his reckless abuse of power. Or what he believed to be power, he had no intelligence worth admiring.

It was at that moment that he heard his name reverberating through the door. Softly, but enough to strike him to the core.

He entered the room deftly, the reason for this expenditure unfathomable. Upon entering the communications room for these mental deities, his mind began to process the sights scrupulously, barely pausing to breathe, was this his mind's version of fear? Were escape routes really necessary?

He was brought to a halt by a booming voice, very obviously commencing from the figure from the humongous screen. He had been doing his job, if they couldn't see that then the world had come to nothing.

Even so, his heart raced.

"Number X, I have reason to believe that you doubt your leader's resolve for this mission?"

The determined look that crossed his face only expressed the futility of his brain. Why should he stoop to imagine that the man wasn't dangerous, he had looked like it when he had threatened him…

A smile crossed the old man's face. To be amused by the ignorance from the Leader's personage confused him more. Where were this man's thoughts leading?

"You have earned the satisfaction of the Elders. Our subjects are not to disobey, if not the

Maybe he had been to brazen in his answer. The scowl that crossed their faces in turn did not look gracious for the comment.

"Use your head then, soldier."

* * *

He could smell that man walking down the hallway. It could have been the smell of blood that seemed to trail behind everyone at this place, but that was too common to be able to singularly displace this man. The killing intent did not emanate from his body, or rather, was not gathered in the first impression. It was more of a ferality, a wild rage hidden behind that painted mask of stars. The stars that shone so brightly and embodied every fiery passion that anybody had ever wished, made only to hide the darkness that lay between them.

"Oi, Baldor, once again you have disrupted the flow of things."

He growled in the long-haired man's direction. What kind of man had long hair anyways? And here he was, attacking him for idiotic reasons. Ever since that damn lady had locked herself in, they hadn't had much to do, and this fool had taken over in a sense. And it wasn't like he ever really sent them on any real missions, that was Sephiria's job, and she had begun procrastinating. There was no life here for him in this organization, and to be able to get anything out of it, he had to resort to extemporaneous police work. The world could be so boring sometimes… an excuse to fight, anything, anybody, just to occupy his _mind_. He was born for this damn job, raised to it, lived it and breathed it, longer than some of those stars had been in the sky it seemed like.

Shaolee still waited, almost in an offhand matter, was he looking for a fight? He'd give him one, that's for sure.

"Was that your answer?" Number X replied disgustedly, "A growl?"

He growled again, "Obviously, you're too much of a dope to realize that a growl means _back off._" The man sneered at him, or at least he thought so, he just wanted to kill him. Tear his guts out, hah, how would that childish face look at him then? He was so close to reaching for that chain…

"Calm down Mr. Fanghini," ah yes, the Leader's words. Even in a different context they sounded wise. "A fight is not always the answer."

He seemed to smirk this time, like a jester with his mocking mask, laughing at some internal joke. Then took a step back, and soon after another. The eyes of that devil lingered on him though. Were they judging him? A growl rose within him again, though this time suppressed. Number X, how could he go around acting like the bloody intelligentsia of the place when he, Baldor, had walked these halls so much longer?

The urge to lunge forth came again, pandemonium and blindness. But he had disappeared. Bowing and leaving discreetly, like the jester he was, with the twinkle of the sky's stars in his eyes.

The blood stopped boiling. He needed to get out. Now. Shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to face the window, the window leading out to freedom in that city with the wild light, he spoke.

"He's too young for those damn stars anyways."

* * *

This time, a cup of tea was held in her hand, concentric circle after concentric circle would form, only to disappear moments later. Tea had always helped her think, the warm liquid that could soothe her thoughts and emotions. She waited for the relaxation, for the tension that always built up within her breast to dissipate, but to no avail. Nowadays, such luxuries were unavailable to her. Setting her cup down, she went to trace her reflection in the window.

Oh, forever scarred.

She could feel her skin stretch when she moved, just around the faded line the manic Creed had given her. To be torn apart by a god; at least it was a small lie to make herself feel better. She exhaled a long breath before replacing herself into her seat. It almost seemed like with that opening, all her reservations had flowed out with her blood, to mix with the dirt beneath her feet. She almost wished to fall back into that pool, and soak it all back in. It may have reverted her back to the hollow being that she used to be, but at least she was able to function, and she could avoid this tangled mess of webs that had formed in her absence, that were only trapping her in their deceit, acting as if they could bring her happiness.

Train had done it, she thought as least, and Janus seemed to be getting there. How did they do it? It was like they could switch between their mental and physical being so easily. Maybe it came with the freedom, no reserves. But she could never do that, give up the one thing that was the most valuable to her. Her mind was what had kept her going through all these years, had kept her away from the inevitableness which is death, it was her only haven. This was how Train amazed her. He could switch through these yin and yang's like the sun switched each day, each dawn and each dusk.

The sun was setting now,but the colors, indigo, fuchsia, turquoise, seemed so far away.And still so beautiful, how characteristic of life. Oh, dusk. It seemed like the sky was dying a slow death, filled with colors that fire would envy. But a beautiful death, a surrender to paradise…

She froze.

What had she just been thinking? A slow death, a surrender to paradise…

Suicidal thoughts…no, she was just reading too much into this. Her mind was playing tricks on her…

* * *

Sven sighed. There they went again. He should have prepared for this, brung something to do, or _something._

"You do understand how many calories are in pepperoni?" Rins questioned, with a slight air of disbelief.

"Why should that matter if they taste good?" Train replied, grinning. He looked like he was enjoying this.

"What are you talking about, they're disgusting!"

Eve slipped into step with him, glancing up at his face dripping with faked agony.

"They argue like this a lot, don't they?" she widened her eyes in an innocent gesture. "Almost like you and Dr. Tiarju."

He nodded, continuing to mumble about how annoying Train could be sometimes, only half-listening.

A smile played across her face, before slipping her hand into his. She wouldn't really mind him as a father…

He accepted her small hand, before realization hit him, "Did you just say…Were you referring too?…" He looked down at the young girl, with her long blonde hair and huge eyes. "Sometimes I think you act more innocent than you actually are."

"Why get pepperoni when you can get extra cheese? I mean, its _extra._"

"That sounds like something I would say Rins! You've been hanging around me too much…" Train's grin grew as he taunted her. "But pepperoni's still better."

"_Obviously,_ that's just like you to be blunt. And it's so _greasy_, how can you eat grease? And I do _not_ act like you!"

Eve tugged at his sleeve now, having taken her hand away. "I'm not that hungry, Sven. Why don't you take me to my mother's house now?"

He chuckled. "Can't stand their bickering just as much as me? Ah, well, I guess that it can't be helped then."

"Pepperoni's cool! And besides… all cats eat meat!"

"Train…" Sven started, pushing his egotistical head to the side, "I'll be taking Eve now," he said, addressing Rins, who continued to glower in Train's direction. "You two have fun…I guess."

"Why so early?" asked Train suddenly, muffled behind Sven's hand. After not getting an answer he continued, "I think I knoooooowwww."

"I'll see you Back At The House Train…" stated Sven, accenting his words, before waving and hurrying off after Eve.

"So sweet…" Rins breathed, running her fingers over her elbows, "Smells like romance."

Train smirked again, "Ya, smells good," he replied in a far-away tone. "Almost like pepperoni."

"Train!" yelled Rins, clearly he was great at aggravating her, "Why can't you drop it when you know you're wrong! Pepperoni smells just as bad as you do."

"Hey! I don't smell bad!" he shot back, before running forward. "Ooh, I get it…you're just telling me in your roundabout way that pepperoni's great."

He was challenging her! That smug…smug…smug… "How did you get that!" Rins shrieked, sprinting up to him. "Pepperoni smells bad! Bad! Like you! Gosh!" she flung her arms in the air, waving them around wildly. He began laughing openly, with his head back, while dodging her small hands. "Why don't you just…" she paused, grabbing the front of his jacket, "…take a bath!"

Her frustration guiding her, almost with an ease she hurled him into the nearby shallow lake, spraying water everywhere.

"Agh!" he spluttered, trying to get his bearings, floundering violently. "Why'd you do that? I hate water! Especially wet water!"

Finishing her laughter at the hilarity with a giggle she stretched out her hand, "Well I guess I've had my fun, shall I help you out Mr. Black Cat?"

"Oh, yes, help me_after_ you dunk me in here." he retorted, reaching for her hand. She attempted pulling him backwards, only to remain trapped in place. She raised her violet orbs to look into his mischievous ones, and was only able to get out the words, "Train, don't you…"

:SPLASH:

She rose from the water, her short hair dripping, still gripping Train's hand. Through the water gathering on her eyelashes and playing on her cheeks, she was able to make out his lopsided grin. _His lopsided grin, and long hair that hung into his eyes._ God, she wanted to smack him…but she could always settle with something else.

Splashing him in the face with a surprising wave of water, she was finally able to pull her hand away and get out of his range. Sticking her tongue out at him, she made for the opposite bank.

"Think you can get away that easily Rins?" he laughed, and with surprising quickness for a man that supposedly hated water, was upon her within moments, and had dunked her underneath the surface.

"AGH! Train! You almost drowned me!" she roared after surfacing, splashing his chuckling face.

"Hey! I didn't deserve that!" he answered, splashing her back. Seconds later, droplets were flying everywhere, framing the two joyous faces. In the midst of it all, Train ducked underneath the water. She waited patiently for him to resurface, running her hands through the water. So suddenly now, it was silent. Silence...the silence reminded her of "…Janus…" she said it softly. They would speak, but it would be silent. She shouldn't be here with…

Her thoughts were dashed as she was swept off her feet and placed on the shore. At a loss of words at the suddenness of it---not to say that she could never expect it--- she gaped at him in astonishment. "Wh-wh-"

"Eh, I saw your face." he spoke, leaning back on his hands and staring off over the small lake.

"You.." she continued moving her lips, even though they evoked no sound. She stared at his face, and at the same time, hiding hers.

"Besides, my arms were tired."

"Your arms were tired?" she mused, turning her stare into a sly look, "Does that mean…that I won?"

"Won what! There was nothing to win."

Rins started to hoot loudly, "I won! I beat you Train Heartnet, let me savor this…" she breathed in deeply, ignoring Train's protests; at the precise moment a breeze came through the secluded area. Shivering in the wind, she rubbed her arms for warmth, still trying to wear that cocky smirk.

"Here."

"Here?" she questioned, turning around, only to have a sopping wet cloth deposited into her hands.

"My sopping wet jacket. You're cold, right?" he asked her with a grin, but the gesture still seemed…so cute.

She laughed softly, "Ya, thanks." Pulling the jacket around her shoulders she commented again, "The cold water is sure helping me warm up."

"Thought so."

They continued to sit there, in silence. She started tugging at the fabric draped around her, biting her lip. She was indebted to the night, he could not see her blush.

"So…uh…" she said, attempting to break the silence. They stood up together. "Swimming makes me hungry, food?" She flashed her usual smile, but still gripped the jacket tightly. This whole situation…she shouldn't…

"Mmm..sounds good…how about pizza?" he chuckled.

"Pizza?" she let the words sink in, he was so crazy sometimes.

"Ya, pepperoni pizza sounds good."

"Train! There is absolutely _no way_!" she whipped the jacket off of her shoulders to whack him upside the head. After a few minutes of Train's cries, she finally wrapped the jacket back around her. So what if the activity and warmed her up? She still wanted the jacket… "Sorry 'bout this Train, but we're just going to have to agree to disagree on this one."

"Eh, I never really liked Mexican standoffs, thought they were kinda racist." he scratched the back of his neck, continuing to beam at her, "how about half-and-half?"

"I think I can deal with that." she shrugged, beginning the walk with him back toward the city.

* * *

Her fingers had drummed scars into the glass.

Whirling around she set her blade before her. She couldn't sit here…stand here…_be_ here, and refuse to follow her orders.

They had never failed her before.

She would not be a fool and turn her back on everything she knew.

At least not yet.

* * *

That pathetic excuse for a Time Guardian had left again.

This time he would find no reprieve.

He had a plan.

* * *

**I have to say, this last part here was extremely long. It took me about 3 hours to write, and is the reason I am now posting at 2 in the morning. Making my fingers hurt...**

**Ok, enough with the idiocy.**

**I noticed that I changed the way I wrote like a billion times. We will all refrain from commenting on that.**

**Your lucky it doesn't just say 'He had a plan.' Now THAT would have been confusing and even more pathetic.**

**Yes I know, everyone hates me for making Shaolee's character like that.. believe me I've been kicked before. And kicked for having Sephie all melancholy. So sueme.**

**Actually, don't. SinceIput in'no' as my disclaimer...**

**Thelongest segment of this wholething is the Train/Rins moment delio. And it took a wholebunch less time to write... ((oxymoron hehheh))**

**Baldor was really OC too right? ... > ... **

**If you haven't noticed, I'm trying to make my story look longer by writing a huge author's note. AH! I know what I'll do... I'll respond to my reviewers from By Candlelight. YES! genius...**

**girl-over-bored- hey your name sounds familiar. haha. **

**Crazy Hyper Lady- ack! thanx fer saying my A/N wz funny.. goshness. glad my fic wz cute!... trying not to really make this one too much of that but sometimes that just comes out.**

**Ranko- who doesn't likea little bit of romance? And who can write a fic without romance just sorta falling in... it happens accidentally. And I hope this next part doesn't sound mean... hehheh.. since I'm not quite sure who this ranko is that you speak of I just assumed it was a guy... and then you said you were a girl... ack... confused me for awhile there.**

**bebops1- fantastic's a hoopy word.. now I want to use it somewhere in this fic. Everything should be Rins/Train... especially the Creed/Train one's. :shiver:**

**Misteline- thankyou for not calling it corny! Second person who did that... I actually have a whole bunch of idears for oneshots... but Cryptic Angel should have Comic Relief out by the time you read this... read it! Now! Hahaha.. okay maybe I'm being a little forceful...**

**Lilt- yay! I'm rather good at writing fics! Another CrypticAngel name drop... she asked me if she could write the 'what if' ... since I'll be busy with this. That's going to be exciting, and depressing, when that comes out. Actually, any Trainslet fic excites me, since nobody writes them... **

**:D- hoopy name dude. dudette. I'm running into the same situation here with Ranko. It almost crossed between T and M? Did I rate that fic T? Crazycrazy me, I should be more careful with what I'm writing...**

**kuyaga- you mentioned something about whether Train really returns Rins' feelings.. which I think is a good thing to say. It was really hard for me to type inside of Train's head, mostly because he's such a dynamic character that I can't really be sure how he'd respond. I'm going to sort of try that angle out with this fic, possibly. Depends on how that works out.**

**Withdrawn- I wish it had been done before... which it hasn't! And if it has tie the person up until they post it on here.. grr. haha. You've only read volume one! You poorpoor person... volume 4's personally my favorite.. that's kind of obvious though, considering my... story plotlines. I'm hoping that the minute the 4th volume comes out a billion people start posting stories... that's more wishful thinking I think though.**

**CrypticAngel- you again! You were my first and last review.. ((audience cheers, yes, it's over I'm not lying to you)). I could very easily go on typing here forever. Everyone read her oneshots! And... Thankyou so much for your betaing help so far! I never thank you... AnDDDDD**

**EVERYBODY REVIEW! OR SHAOLEE'S PLOT WILL INVOLVE.. SOMETHING HORRIBLE... DIRECTED AT YOU!**


	2. For a Star to Die

**((I noticed that a section of my writing got cut off while publishing. Here is the basic paragraph. More talking at the bottom.))**

"**You have earned the satisfaction of the Elders. Our subjects are not to disobey, if not the unloyal, than the loyal will have to partake of this. You know what we want, do it."**

"**Impossible, he is not one to be so easily defeated."**

**Maybe he had been to brazen in his answer. The scowl that crossed their faces in turn did not look gracious for the comment.**

"**Use your head then, soldier."**

**-------------------------------**

* * *

Eve sat in the passengers seat, she and Sven had long since reverted to silence, and she spent her time gazing out the window at the country side moving past her. "How much longer, Sven?"

"Close to 15 minutes. It's not that far from the town."

She allowed his words to settle around her before turning her eyes to the clouds overshadowing the sky above her. Eve clasped her hands tightly, to keep them from bouncing around with excitement. She was finally going to get the answers that had left this longing hole.

She wanted to know… more about herself, what she was capable of… She wanted to know more about her mother, whether she could really consider Dr. Tiayou to fill such an important position, and why _why_ had she made her?

In all honesty, she did want the answers to those questions, buy what she was _really_ yearning for… was the relationship. Of course she enjoyed the sweeper's life. Competing with Train, and living with Sven, helping people, _saving_ people, setting some in the correct path again. Everything about that felt right. But sometimes when she'd notice other families… mothers out with their daughters… or no matter what, being able to run home to a mom. A woman that could understand completely what it felt like to live in this day-and-age, someone who knew what it felt like to be put down for the sole reason that she was a girl, or just younger than everyone else.

No doubt she had female companionship, but Rins had already avidly explained to her how she would rather be viewed as an older sister. Besides… she wasn't even around much anyways. It was on rare occasions that she stopped by, for one reason or another, but it was never long. It never filled the solitary feeling she felt when knowing that she was viewed as a child tagging along.

A star winked at her.

She wanted this. She didn't know how long she'd stay, whether it was until she got her answers or got restless, but she knew it would defiantly be after she felt like a daughter and like she could belong in that life. The belonging sensation being the one of utmost importance.

Brushing her hair from her face with a thoughtful hand she caught a glance of Sven's content face, quietly humming. If anyone, she'd miss him the most in the time she was here. He was the closest thing to a father she'd ever had. He protected her, even against her will at times. He was, in a sense, her angel.

And she tried to be his. That's where she had gotten her wings from, her want to be able to protect him back. Even in that short time she had been separated from him at Creed's castle had had her worried. That feeling that she had to be alive for him, and that he _must_ be alive for her was the string that kept her tied to life. Not even the Furies could cut through a string of gold.

Things were relatively peaceful now though, besides Train's usual antics of course. The first to come to mind was when he had attempted to mix her toothpaste with hot sauce…obviously he had gotten Sven's instead. But all the same, they hadn't heard a peep from Creed or any of his underlings, and Chronos left them well enough alone. Every once and awhile she would overhear Train speaking to Sven about the tabs he could sense they were keeping on them. But it was not like they should worry about it, Sephiria watching them was only natural.

As she turned her young eyes back to the velvet black, her white knuckles were finally laid to rest, her body visibly relaxing. Even if she had few problems nowadays, those few easily made themselves known. The only thing that would make them dissipate was to look at the stars. Each pinpoint of light hung by a thread, so delicately balanced and so far away. The issues that weighed her mind down were always shed when she lifted her gaze. They always helped bring things into focus, even through the darkness the light created clarity. When she saw them they made her feel whole. The same way Sven made her feel whole, and the answers that she was seeking would. She loved these people, and she loved those stars. She just wished that she could have them in the daylight.

Sven drifted to a stop, switching off the engine and allowing the headlights to fade. He was leaving the life that he felt comfortable in, and entering an aspect of his mind that he had hardly any experience with. It was almost as a second thought that he exited the car and pulled a protesting Eve onto his shoulders.

He knew she hated him treating her like a child…but sometimes these things couldn't be helped, and everyone deserved a childhood.

When the wooden doors opened to a shining interior, Dr. Tiayou stood peering over the rim of her glasses at the pair of them, before smiling broadly at the pouting Eve perched atop Sven's shoulders.

_The way you smile so softly_…

She invited them in warmly, and Sven allowed Eve back onto solid ground.

"How about tea? Tea and sandwiches? Those are so fun to make…" She finished wistfully, before ambling off into the kitchen.

"It would be in our best interest to help her out, don't you think?"

She grabbed his hand, yanking him into her wake, "What a wonderful plan of action Sven, let's hurry."

When the duo entered the room, they were met with the scene of Dr. Tiayou slicing vegetables. It was a couple of moments before they noticed the glint of the edge was facing upwards, forcing the unfortunate carrot into mush.

Sven let a small smile cross his face.

_The way you hold your knife…_

"Ah…should I help you with that Miss Hakase?"

"Why? You don't think I can handle it?"

"Of course you can handle it…" Sven answered, drifting towards her, _eh…no easy way to put this._

"He just wants to help. Why don't you start the tea mother?" Eve cut in, jumping onto the counter, letting her toes dangle. Sven smiled graciously, and proceeded to take the knife.

She had called her mother nonchalantly, but really she wanted to see how she would react. Dr. Tiayou seemed to almost take it in stride, already filling the pot with water.

She hadn't said it in waste though, she had gotten that topic out in the open. _She may act clumsy in her scheduled life, but when she looks at something scientifically, she'll be able to understand what I was trying to get across. I could swear by it. _

Her eyes wide and hopeful, she stored her newly gained ideas about her mother in the recesses of her mind, to be used in the opportune moment.

After many mishaps regarding spilt tea, the trio had settled on the couches spread across the front foyer. They were each sipping the liquid sparingly. She had never been one for the bitter taste herself, even so, the warmth was welcomed on a cold night such as this. She amused herself by observing Dr. Tiayou and Sven, each in turn. She wasn't all together positive what the two were conversing about, but it might as well have been the weather for how detached and inane the whole situation was.

She sighed inwardly. Why did he have to be like this sometimes? He could so easily break Dr. Tiayou out of her dam.

"So just turn the heat down a little?"

He had been giving her the most innocent pointers he could think of, it would have been rude for a gentleman such as him to criticize. "Well, maybe more like a lot."

"And avoid adding salt?"

"Yes, in fact, just avoid salt and sugar all together. They look to much alike as it is," She was nodding thoughtfully, as if these words were of the type of the most intelligent and useful that she had ever heard. "We'll just add it on ourselves later."

_Eh, he'd said 'we'._ Showed his intentions then, she'd know soon enough. What a slip of the tongue. Nobody was ready for this sort of thing. He should just get up and leave now before things got embarrassing. A stunning and enchanting exit was at hand.

But possibly, maybe not. There was always the chance he was reading to much into these sort of things. He was just totally and completely clueless in these areas. Like driving in a deep set night with no headlights. Besides, for all the nodding she was doing, she didn't seem to be processing many things.

She glowed with Eve's childish innocence, it just manifested itself in different ways. Like her clumsiness. And with what trust and care she seemed to hold people. It was mellowing, if not anything else. For what a big brain she had, she had a bigger heart.

Or at least, he thought so. He believed it, sure, but he didn't really know her. A single meeting in person and few conversations on the cellular provided his whole impression of the woman. In reality, he should slow his racing brain and let Eve figure things out from here. The young girl really was the best soul to decide on the character and nature of this lady.

In response to reflection, another sip of tea was inevitable. In the momentary comfortable silence he was allowed a glimpse to savor, a sideways glance of her eyes as she lifted the cup to her lips. A glance usually associated with mirth and laughter, from her only came across as one of sedate tranquility and purity.

And the way she held her glass, two delicate hands gracefully balancing the weight, pinkies lilting to the side.

And the way the drink was drunk ever slightly, one small joy to be loved before the next.

And the way her loose tresses slipped in and out of her vision to mix with the heated vapor and lukewarm memories.

_In summary, the way you sip your tea._

The conversation carried on sporadically after that, dipping through the wake of waves. Each ripple in their drinks were held as tsunamis in how much memory they were beholden with.

Having been one to memorize the gentleman's code, he knew the way to keep a person talking was to introduce subjects associated with the things they cared about. Eve tired quickly when the subject was her, the awkwardness of that situation was enough to end it at least. And he had pushed Dr. Tiayou into the topic of her recent scientific studies, a foolish move on his part. He fathomed it had been close to three seconds before the five syllable words shut down every electrode in his brain. After what was most likely a couple of centuries, he was able to dismiss himself with a short goodbye to Eve and a curt nod.

It hadn't been until he was back in the car with the headlights on that he realized what a fool he had been. _I might have looked normal, but truly, on the inside, I never was. _If he wanted to be included in their future lives he should have been more open. She probably thought he hated her. Great. He should go back and apologize. No, that would just be pathetic.

Silent honks drifted through the emptiness as he banged his head against the wheel. It was many sighs and swerves later that he was finally able to compose himself and his grumbling nature. He should have lived in the moment, dropped more than a hint, just went outright and said it. Sometimes he envied Train and his spontaneity.

This was too much thinking, especially when it was a completely new frontier. And he had way to much time to mull over it. He had lied to Eve, it wasn't fifteen minutes, but more like thrice that…and he knew that it would seem like _much_ more.

* * *

_The handle. _

Grasped firmly, it was total control. In the palm of your hand, your life, your sanity, your conductor for fear.

It was like the mind, no one could take it away from you. A complete trust never possible to give away.

_The defense._

The thin sheet of metal that protected the fingers, a half circle. From the front you saw perfection, but from beneath; an empty cavity.

A protection so thin yet so unbreakable. Like a fantastic shield or aura, that only the confidant mind could conjure.

_The blade._

Long, thin. Like a road of life. No discrepancies and absolute balance. Yet evidently no room for deviation.

Straight, like the back of a proud man. Odysseus when he sheds his rags to string his bow for battle, churning with keen intelligence. A keen intelligence and certainty that all of the weak-willed will fall beneath him.

_The Blade_.

In spite of its obviousness, gray. Gray for confusion. Uncertainty regarding the assured answer.

To continue with Odysseus, grey for old age. Spent taking tests to challenge. Yet throughout his journeys and despite his aptitude, he lost many to enchanting mystery. Gray for mystery then. Mystery and possible surprise.

_The point._

The wide expanse of life to finish with an end of death. The point hanging over the never-ending void, boundless like the sky. An instant that shines with ruin. A star. A lost soul.

A point like a steeple, to be revered by some and abhorred by others. To hold the whole world, life and death, in a speck so miniscule. But no end, no demise. A limbo; a link to a wide expanse of uncertainty. An exciting thing held by so many as fear. Let them fear it. Let them fear death. Let them fear this soul.

This was…

Or might…

Be how a swordsman thought.

* * *

The soaked duo had entered the planned pizza café a little off schedule, obviously, but the waiters didn't mind, more pay for them. And _she_ certainly hadn't minded, she was freezing. They had sat there for awhile now, trying to dry in the still air which _obviously_ hadn't helped in the least. And here she was, still freezing, in a café way past it's closing time, with the maitre d' and assortment of waiters breathing down their necks, arguing with Train over the bill.

_Obviously_ he had carried no money with him.

"I am not paying for your eating disorder, Train."

He grinned sheepishly, he was lucky he still had those lips to grin with…she was about a hairsbreadth away from ripping them off of his face. "But I can't pay for it! Sven never lets me handle the money. It's so sad."

"It's not saddening, it's infuriating. It's because you're so childish. Grow up quick and get a real job so that you can _pay_." Her glare had solidified long ago, violet eyes flashing beneath narrowed eyelids.

"That's impossible!" he moaned, collapsing on the table.

"How is that impossible? Don't contradict me. I need this money for a taxi, and I would have more if you hadn't thrown me in a lake. I'm freezing and it's all your fault."

"But I gave you my jacket."

"It doesn't help in the least."

"Then can I have it back? I'm cold too!"

"What an idiotic thing to say!" She stood up, shaking him wildly, his shirt in her tiny fists. It was as if she shook him with the hope that a couple of well-hidden coins might fall loose, or some cents...sense... might become apparent.

"Désolée! Désolée! Madam put me down s'il vous plaît…"

She dropped him, flopping back into her chair. It was exhausting to think for the both of them simultaneously. "Firstly Train, wrong language, a pizza place is Italian. And if your going to speak it, learn it correctly, I'm not married."

"Duh, what kind of totally random statement was that?" He rolled his eyes upwards, as if begging the heavens to give her intelligence. He was so _clueless_ sometimes.

She slumped on the table, much like he had done beforehand. It was exhausting to be infuriated too.

"I'm just going to lie here until some sort of miracle comes along."

She had said it faintly, more of a thought than a proclamation, but it seemed as if the god's had answered her pleas. One of the waitresses finally getting fed up with the situation stomped over to them and snatched up the bill.

"Leave, just leave. And to think I stayed here all this time waiting for my fifteen percent tip."

Rins sighed gratefully, and made a move to stand up. Train followed slowly, but was unable to keep his curiosity inside for long. "You mean you don't get paid at all for us being here?"

The girl was busy stuffing her apron into a cubbyhole, and it was a few seconds before she was able to answer. Rins used that time to send him a glare carrying the words: _WHY do you CARE? You don't care that I'm freezing…you don't care about your honor…making a woman pay..yeesh._

Well the last part was mainly in her head. But it's not like it made a difference, because he wouldn't have noticed either way.

"No, I don't. This isn't a democracy."

He turned drooping golden eyes towards her, pouting. "You won't even give her a some change?"

If he wanted to pay her so badly he should have brought money. "The puppy dog look doesn't work for you, Train."

She started marching off. He looked torn between the two woman, a slight limbo. A choice between the right thing… and well… the right thing. Paying her was the good thing…but making Rins do it was wrong. Letting her leave was a better choice, but it still left the girl feeling ripped off…A gray area to say the least.

In the end his innate want to do good got the better of him, and he ran after her. "Rins _pleeeeeeaseeee_, it makes me feel so mean!"

"Get off my leg, you're going to break my shoe!"

With his persistence, she finally relented, wadding up the few bills she had left and throwing them in the direction of the café.

"There, happy? I'm broke too."

For someone who had been begging her with near tears moments before, he seemed to recover way to quickly. "It's okay if you're broke, all holy men are broke! It makes you a great person!"

She sighed numbly. Mourning over his scattered judgment. "I need a vacation."

They were walking towards the streets now, his hands hanging lazily from his pockets, and hers sporadically lifting towards the heavens, as if begging for guidance.

"But I thought you visiting the three of us was your vacation."

Her hands lifted as formerly mentioned. "Hardly. I come here and lose my good health, lose my money, and lose the heel of my shoe."

"Eh, sorry about your shoe Rins," he looked genuinely sorry, "I'll pay it back if you want me too."

"For some reason I doubt that."

Her uneven shoes clicked irregularly on the paved sidewalk, breaking the hum of insects and streetlights harshly.

"It looks hard to walk like that, why don't you just take them off?"

She grunted, though more out of frustration for her feet than anger at him. "I would like to avoid blisters. That's what shoes are for. To protect feet."

He took a single hand out of his pocket to begin motioning with, "Blisters aren't that bad. All you have to do is learn to ignore them, in fact I probably have one right now because of this…" his face became thoughtful, and his hand's motions stilled, "…money that I've got in my shoe."

Her face fell. "_What?"_ Many questions had run through her mind at the moment, but that seemed like the best summary.

He immediately bent down to remove his shoe and a handful of cash. "I remember…I was hiding it from Eve so she wouldn't use it to buy more books."

His face lit up with fascination, while hers darkened dramatically, sifting through her usual emotions. She finally ended with utter disbelief and acceptance, and collapsed as gracefully as she could onto the paved ground.

"I give up. Leave me here to die. And don't worry about guilt, you'll forget by morning."

"Désolée, désolée! I forgot, I did not mean too. Forgive me s'il vous plait!" He knelt down beside her, begging her much the same way he had before. She made no attempt to respond, only moving to cover her face with his jacket. He put on a valiant face, fist clenched in a heroic gesture. "I will not leave you here to die madam!"

She sighed into the wet cloth, blinking to challenge the opaque. "Please stop with the French, Train, I want to die in peace."

"This is peace?" He blinked to challenge her, "You mean you'd rather die freezing on a sidewalk than sleeping safely in your bed?"

Another breath of wind escaped her lips, to mingle with the stale trapped beneath the fabric. _Why didn't he understand that his innocence was bothersome? _"I suppose you're right. I'd rather die sleeping peacefully like my grandmother, than, for example, screaming in fear like the passengers in her car."

If that was a joke, neither had time to laugh, because in result of that statement Train had swooped her up into his arms and had her balancing precariously along with him on a rooftop halfway down the street in an instant.

She gasped feeling the sudden gust of cold wind, quickly removing the soaked jacket. "Train! What are you doing! You're going to get us killed!"

He chuckled slightly, before moving with his astonishing quickness again. This time the scenery consisted of an abandoned car in front of a desolate looking building. "I thought you wanted to die?"

"And I thought we established that I'd rather not die screaming in fear!"

He laughed again, flying in a direction known only to him, buildings flitting past. These types of excursions were definitely not good for the stomach.

When he set her down, she found herself swaying in front of her most recent apartment, and was soon clutching the doorframe for support. "Oh gosh, I think I'm going to be sick."

He grinned, amused and innocent. "Really? I though it was a lot of fun."

She attempted a glare, but it came across as more of a grimace. "It would be in your best interest to get out of here before I recover…because I am seriously going to rip out your tongue and make you eat it."

His grin was hurriedly amended from amusement to one of mock fear, wide with a silent scream. Then, spontaneously, once more no time to protest, he leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek, and jumped over the railing. He held a broad grin in his waving hand from his position on the street, before disappearing in the direction they had come from.

She snapped the jacket like a whip in the place he had just stood, before fishing in her pocket for her key. _That man…was completely nuts.

* * *

_

He settled into his seat. There really wasn't any rush, no lights were on, meaning Train was obviously not home yet. An empty house wasn't much different than an empty car, except for the fact that the sounds echoed in lonesome wails.

He tipped his hat low on his nose, wiggling it around out of habit and comfort. Where was that guy? It was pretty late, he usually made it a point to keep his curfew. Not that he really had one, but the thought was nice. Maybe he had gotten into trouble. Maybe _Rins_ had gotten them into trouble. Then again maybe not. She had proven herself trustworthy, and Train was more of a magnet for those types of things.

Besides, if there had been any real danger, he would have rang his cellular.

Unless he _had_ called and it just hadn't gotten through since Dr. Tiayou's house was way out in the middle of nowhere.

His hand involuntarily reached into his pocket, drawing the device halfway out before leaving it to rest once again. What kind of peril could that kid not get out of anyways? What use was an ancient policeman like him?

He ballooned his cheeks up with air, letting it out slowly. Train. He was an enigma that one. It was a mystery to him whether the clueless-ness was just a front, used to throw others off… or a sort of reprieve from his real self. Or, strike all that, maybe he really was clueless underneath, since all he knew how to do was fight.

No, that wasn't true. He'd seen him figure things out on occasion, and fighting required a mind not easily fooled. So, really, he must act the way he does for fun. Nothing wrong with having fun he supposed. He was constantly happy, it was almost unnerving at times. But it must make sense somewhere, and things were working out for him.

So there was the meaning of life, happiness.

These were the sort of things you wrote on fortune cookies. _Confucius says…_

On to another quagmire.

He folded his hands over his stomach, breathing evenly for a few minutes. His leg was sore before he realized that he had been shaking it. Why was he so tense lately? And where was Train? He'd feel better if there was someone else around. It couldn't be that he was sensing danger… where could you find any in a quaint city like this. Port. Bell-tower. Humongo jungo church. Dirt road off into the forest. Downtown was four blocks.

It must have been more of an inner nervousness, it could possibly have come along with leaving Eve behind. This must be how a parent felt when you left your child at school.

Rivers of silent tears flowed down his face, his fist clenched proudly. _The Lil' Princess was growing up._ This really must be what a father felt like though. That feeling that almost all their innocence was gone, and deteriorating fast. He was tempted to reach out and grab it, begging her to ask him what an ocean was again.

Eve really had grown up fast. Maybe it had come from reading all the time, all that pent up information had to lead to somewhere. No more books for her, he'd have to hide the money.

Like that would stop her anyhow, being around two sweepers and criminals all the time required a person to understand reality. Or, like he had said before, a mind not so easily fooled. And as much as he hated to admit it, she had lived in a life revolving around fighting and death for a long time. It could ruin any person. Yet she seemed to take it and move on, just like Train. She made do with what she had, using it to the fullest, and she seemed content.

Perhaps he should use his proverb again, she was happy with her life. Something he could never obtain.

Of course there were happy moments, but everything always felt lacking. Like he could never fully achieve whatever goal he set for himself. It was almost frustrating. No, not almost, it _was._ He never felt like his past could leave him. Everyone was able to carry on with their life, while he always felt tied down to his. One eye saw the present, but the other was a hook to the past. No matter how many times he looked forward he could not escape it. He doubted the feeling was as big as guilt, or as ignored as a twinge of memory. He tried to be rid of it by placing flowers. White for peace. Peace for his friend's soul, and for his own peace of mind.

He got out of the car, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. He didn't mind reflecting. But reflecting as in 'mirror' was always hated.

Fumbling through his coat pocket for the single key, his mind wandered back to the subject. He knew he would never be able to escape it. His supposed 'answer' was useless for this situation. Being happy all the time would never work. Maybe his own answer was to just live on. Which was useless when he felt like there really wasn't anything left to accomplish. There was the possibility that he had finished everything that he had been set on this world to do. Well, if he couldn't live happy, at least he could die happy.

He fit the key into the lock, turning it gradually. What was this apprehensive feeling he kept getting? He couldn't associate the whole thing with a 'fatherly instinct'. The apprehension almost bordered on a pressure and tension.

He pushed the door open with the toe of his shoe, glancing in quickly. He hadn't seen anything yet, but he couldn't just ignore the feeling. It didn't set him on edge though, it wasn't like bloodlust, or a killing intent, more of a type of ferality, like an animal.

He cautiously shifted his hand toward his eye patch. It would be the safer thing to check, even if it was nothing. Reaching the area of the black band, he was stunned to find it missing. On further investigation, he found he still could not see out of it.

Moments later all feeling was pain.

The sun burned beneath it's mask of stars.

* * *

A hallway. Dark, he fathomed. Demons dancing and twisting in the corners. Narrow, too, no escape from the torture each demon's claw inflicted. And the floor, tile. Repetitious pattern, or cement, flat. Cement. He could feel the cold seeping into the soles of his shoes, each toe turned to ice for each deadly sin.

The cold, irritating his feet, and the cold bickeringwith his ears. _Somebody_ had left a window open. A window that wasn't even allowed to be open, and one that blew in great gusts of frigid and whistling air, to aggravate his sensitive ears.

He wouldn't be surprised if one of these idiots had left it wide on purpose, just to bother him. Here he was, locked in this forsaken building for more than a month, counting each crack in the memorized passageways, unable to leave, unable to feel any wind. Any rain even. And here this person was, thinking they just had the luxury to enjoy a long lost memory of sweet smells and sounds.

If he wasn't allowed, they weren't allowed.

Ever since Creed had left, there had been a feel of separation. The higher-ups worried about rebellion, and, he assumed, therefore kept them locked up under scrutiny. But even so, there was a subconscious shift, each drifting towards their own allied forces.

Which was the reason they kept him here. Him, few others. For fear of rebellion. Why they thought he would rebel against the only thing he ever knew confounded him. They were crazy is what it was. They feared him. Him and Baldor. Useless people. Good enough only to be used.

His feet shuffled silently down the corridor. Straight corridor, not winding. No corners, therefore everything visible. Like that made a difference to him. He could feel anything hidden. Like the monotonous wind. It had quickly receded from a sonata to a fuel of great irritation. It was forbidden freedom.

And he hated how they held it over him. Like a punishment, like the man who in the depths ofTartarus thirsts for a drink, and receives nothing. The sweetness of fruit balancing before his lips, but unable to savor it.

This sweetness of the air, held before him as a privilege. Only to be earned under good behavior. No such thing as good or bad in a place like this. Gray like the cement.

He could hear the rustle of leaves mingled with the infernal drone, and he hated it and he loved it. A sweetness he was so deprived of, the deprivation leading to immediate irritation. Few things were as sweet. A prick of the finger on the tip of his knife, a needle, sweet like sleep for Sleeping Beauty, a sweet feeling. A sweet taste. One small reprieve. Red. Red like the pretend velvet carpets and ornate drawings that could litter the walls. Red for ferocious passion and passionate ferocity. Red for sweet death, a sweet sight. To see again, like Paul. Where was god in a hole like this? Who did he have to go to for forgiveness to be reborn?

And there was still the irritation. A nicotine wind, addicting and awful. Once again, if not his, then no one else's.

His steps on red cement ceased, finding the abhorrence. Behind a door. Baldor's door. Smelled like him. He imagined, large, black, perfectly rectangular. And as of recently, foreboding and ominous.

Anger blinds, though, and he had soon shoved his way into the area universally accepted as Number XIII's.

No pressure, therefore no presence.

Fanghini always let off a sort of pressure, singularly characteristic of him, it was so easy to sense. Lately it had escalated, due to the Leader's lack of action. He could sense the same irritation from him that he felt incessantly now. That man was the same as him in many ways. They had both grown up here at the Organization, born to fight. Each sonata the song of a battle cry. They shared the same views, the same ideas for liberation. The same exultation in combat.

On a softer note, he was the closest thing to a friend he would ever have. The closest he was ever allowed to have even. They knew everything about their past lives, partners. Yet he knew to Baldor they were nothing of the sort. A partner was an extension of the weapon. Though he believed that too.Fanghini was a good weapon, it would not judge or plot against you. Only attack, relentless attack, Every bond, every chain, and every thing that got in the way.

He missed it, the excuses they could make to fight. Sometimes he wondered what he would do to end this stupor.

Anything.

Like killing was an issue. And that was the last rung on the ladder.

He moved toward the grating sound of the wind, issuing through the opened window. No crunch of broken glass under his feet. It could open easily. A knife in his heart. Was that a pang of envy? He attempted to close it, a hand on the sill, the other, permanently resting on the hilt of his weapon.

An ambiguity for why the man had left the window open. Unless he had been planning on himself following. Which was peculiar regarding XIII's recent tendency to push him away. It had to come with the irritation towards Sephiria. His only ally, lost to the organization, lost to him, lost to the wind.

The thought of closing the window had already been completed, but the action was quite the opposite. He deserved a revelry for what these Chronos members had put him through.

It was a whole different world, with much more space to run and catch something. He had forgotten how good it felt to slice through a well tracked prey. What did it matter about the rules anyway? He had never made it a goal to follow them. If they were going to stop him from going outside, then they'd have to fight him. Simple as that.

He had flashed out of the porthole held high above the ground, and had only touched the grass when the strongest smell of coffee infiltrated his nose.

Had Baldor been as careless as to disregard his tracks? He hoped the man wasn't getting sloppy, he wouldn't be alive for long then. This was almost to strong to even be a trail. It was as if someone had gone around sprinkling coffee powder everywhere, just to make sure he smelt it. Even so, the smell of coffee gum was so linked to Baldor, it was no question where he had went. Following the shadow of the demon in a westerly direction, he made to cover both their tracks to the utmost extent. But it was not like there was a big rush to it. This freedom was meant to be enjoyed.

* * *

He had backed up towards the car door, shock numbing the pain. That was inhuman speed, nothing he could go up against without his Foreseeing Eye, all he could do was get the hell out of here.

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he collided with a body behind him. He immediately leapt forward, locking the door behind him, catching a glimpse of flowing blonde hair. His eye cast around widely, he knew a wooden door wouldn't keep out a person like that. To live he'd have to get his briefcase, which he'd left here in the house. Where had he put the damn thing?

He hurriedly made his way toward one of the side rooms, ducking behind a corner as he heard the door splinter behind him. He sucked in his breath, trying to his best ability not to make a sound. He had just made it into the hallway when he heard a dark laugh from behind him, he turned his head for a moment, coming face to face with Sephiria, the same woman he had seen from the battle with Creed. He jumped forward again, reaching simultaneously for the lamp on the counter and hurling it in her direction.

Almost with an ease she sliced through it, leaving the two halves balancing on the floor, only to shatter when she took a step forward. His immediate response was to tread backwards, a tango.

There was no way he'd be able to fight her, someone so elite in the Chronos scale. His only chance was to wait for Train to get home, which would require a good level of stalling.

She lunged forward, him only catching her movements at the last instant, pulling away from the deep blow. She seemed amused with his injury, and studied his heavy breathing and clutch for his bleeding shoulder, as if wondering what he'd do next. Like a game, or a plaything, something that could only hold the attention for as long as the song lasted.

His back finally found the wall, it now becoming a support for the building as well as him. Hurriedly trying to catch his breath, he squeezed his shoulder with the strength he had left, trying to hold back the flow. He could see in her eyes that she didn't find him amusing anymore, and she shifted towards him.

"Wait," he called out, shooting out the breath in his lungs, he was reverted back to panting for a few moments before he was able to speak again. "Why are you here?" A vague enough question to say the least, but if his lucky star was out there, it could at least buy him a couple of minutes.

An interested look passed her face for a moment, bringing her sword point down somewhat. "That would be too characteristic of an evil genius wanting to explain his plan, and besides, it's no fun to just tell." She flicked her sword at him, drawing a line of blood from his left cheek, "Guess."

This really was a game to her, except that there was no way to fight back or outsmart her. He was Inigo, Fezzik, Vizzini, against someone as Wesley. It looked as if her patience was beginning to run thin, so he spouted the first words to come to mind. "You've come to kill me."

"Yes, I figured that part was obvious. If that's all you can come up with in your last moments than so be it. Let me kill you in a way befitting."

She was so ominous in her way of being, this wasn't the flowing power he remembered her radiating. It was like her own liquid moves had corroded their own selves, instead of gypsum or whatever else they could. It was amazing how his mind seemed to be racing when he was hooked on survival. Racing, but in the wrong direction. Again, his answer was a forced ad lib.

"You've come to kill me...because I know too much about Chronos."

"Do not flatter yourself, you know nothing useful." The blade was now circling before his face, as if she was choosing its next specific target.

"Because I'm a danger to the organization."

"What could you do? You do not seem like much of a danger now."

It had been a useless guess, yes, but not nearly as bad as the princess when guessing Rumplestilskin's name. "For fun then." he stammered out, immediately regretting it. Fairy tales were clouding his judgment.

"Murdering for pleasure? Don't associate me with mere serial killers." The weapon flashed out towards him, another mark on the cheek, an 'x'. Targeted. She stabbed en route for his face, both hands gripping the iron handle, was it shaking or was that just his vision going?

"For Train." he gasped at the last second, before the point collided with his head. She diverted her attack, sending the force plunging into his stomach.

He gripped the sword with weak hands, as she leered at him. "Precisely."

"How does killing me help?…If anything…it'll help…make him angry…" He sucked in great gulps of blood-soaked air sporadically, sinking to his knees. He blinked away the haze, he had to stay alive for as long as possible.

"Angry, yes, most likely. But in battle, when he has nothing to live for, he will embrace death."

He broke into a fit of coughs, splattering flecks of blood on the shining metal. "Obviously you don't know Train."

She narrowed her eyes at his half bowed head, "He lived with Chronos for his whole life. You've tagged along for a slight bit over 3 years and you think you know who he really is."

Another ragged breath, "He's been away from that for a long time…he has a heart now…that changes things…you may know cold-blooded--"

With a sudden yank she wrenched away the dripping blade from his abdomen, finally allowing it to bleed freely. Grasping the wound, his weight was conclusively allowed to fall onto the ground, a tangled heap. "I thought I told you not to associate me with petty killers." She spoke stiffly, raising her blade for the finishing blow. "It doesn't matter for any mind, any individual, they will break when surrounded by death, and will not be able to escape it!"

This was his last chance. It could potentially be dangerous for those still living, but it was his only way of switching roles to Wesley, and being able to poison both cups.

Stealthily he let his hand drop to his pocket, allowing the mobile to become loose, falling with a dead thud onto the carpet. She glanced once at it, and once at him. If he was lucky she'd been to absorbed in the slaughter to notice his act.

She finally seemed to decide, using the sword to flip the object up into her hands, "This would help me find the missing partner, would it not?"

Eve. Tiayou. He couldn't let her take them away. If Train would just hurry…he couldn't hold on for much longer.

She pocketed the small trifle, eyes glimmering with a feral joy. For all her glowing blonde hair, that was just like theirs, she was covered in shadows, a cape of them, her blade a scythe, raised high, to reap his soul. His face was grim.

She tore down into him again, opening his side to an onslaught of unwanted air, his life seeping into the carpet. _Eve, he wouldn't be able to save her, Tiayou, he'd never be able to tell her, Train, he'd never be able to help again, and he'd never be told of their last chance._

Raising her arms again, she was frozen in midair just as he had begun to freeze on the ground. She'd heard a click, from upstairs, a window.

"Train Heartnet, appears!" Rocketed through the house, accompanied by a deathly pause and a flurry of footsteps. She had sheathed her sword when a bullet rang past her head, of course he'd intend to miss, what a fool.

The feet slipping their way into the dark, they knew they would not be followed. The Black Cat had other matters that he'd deal with, he'd come later.

His words seemed to stick in his throat, and he immediately rushed to his friend'sside, kneeling down, hands out helplessly.

"Train…" was all Sven was able to croak out, before clenching his teeth in pain again. His own life may be about to end, but in doing so he'd be able to save Eve and Dr. Tiayou. "Sephiria…"

He broke into a spasm of coughs again, catching glimpses of Train shaking his head rapidly, in a gesture of not to talk. But there was no time…no time…he couldn't let Chronos take them away too. "Phone…tracker…" He searched Train's face for understanding, finally getting a mournful nod, "Eve…"

_Couldn't let them take her away…_

"Tiayou…"

_The way…the way you hold your knife…_

"Tell them…" He could see the pain held behind Train's eyes, and he could feel it in his own. He was wrong…he was leaving so many things left undone…

_The way you sip your tea…_

In a bout of momentary strength, he used a weak fist to grab hold of Train's soaked shirt. "Don't! Don't wait till tomorrow. Don't hold back. Don't hold back your emotions, Train. Train, there's no time. Train…"

His fist slipped from his hold, and Train held up a quivering hand to silence him, "I know…I know. But you're not…you won't…" This time the pain held behind his eyes manifested into a faint hint of water, his teeth the dam, clenched to hold it back.

_I loved her smile. They can't take that away from me. They can't take that away._

"Save them…"

No assuring nod this time, he had closed his eyes out of exhaustion, falling toward a sleep that numbed the pain. He could feel the swirling whirlpool fluttering in the pit of his stomach, like the unforeseen excitement that was around the bend, or the seer's dread like a weight, pulling him down into the water.

It was one last reach over the torrent, the faintest movement of breath. "Goodbye Train, good luck."

And the water stilled, and the wind formed by him lost forever, any fires of life extinguished.

He pulled himself away, and he screamed. Howls of anguish that didn't cease until his throat closed up, the only sound a sore croak, then he resorted to beating the ground with his fists. Fighting it until his hands were too bruised to uncurl and too bloodied to care. And he would have cried, he would have cried if his mouth could utter sound, he would have cried if there was energy left for tears, he would have cried if they could heal like the phoenix, but they could _not._ And he could not. He could not cry, no tears for Sven. There were none to give now. No tears for Saya either, or his parents. The only thing left was a rage, a rage so consuming that the sorrow was banished.

She would pay. They would all pay.

* * *

They had washed the dishes together, in total silence, Dr. Tiayou's random humming of a single verse sometimes breaking her from her thoughts. She had eventually led her to her room, patting her on the head and immediately wandering off. She was different that most, but idiosyncrasies were easy to become accustomed too, especially with the people she chose to associate herself with.

There was a time when the feet and hands explored her furnished room, finding each shelf fascinating with imagined prospect, and each wall smoother than the last. Flat and empty, lacking the unwritten verse. But once again viewed with possibility and hope, like a new book for this body to begin with.

Finally retiring to the single window that stretched almost to the ceiling, held in place by the bed, with room enough for the stockinged feet to rest. Opening the curtains with large eyes for eclectic skies, she admired the profound beauty of each nebula that now shone with a sort of new life that was usually drawn away by the city's lights.

Raising the window that reflected the faint lamplight from the wicker bedside table, she lifted the unsullied face to the immediate gust of cooling wind, whipping around the small misshapen room. It carried with it a remnant of something lost or missing, bringing to the surface the nagging seed at the base of the young heart.

Bringing the petite hand up to hang from her neck, as if holding the porcelain head in place. It was an action for comfort. She could feel the taut line, frayed, breaking from Sven, relying on the man less and hopefully allowing this body to become more independent. If there was any time for the mind to grow it was now, here where it could finally make it's own decisions freely. Even so, a hushed whisper drifted from youthful lips as she wished that her own hands would never be her only safety net.

Warming hands released themselves from the throat, eyes beginning to catch on the magical trail of a falling star. It streaked through the forever for an instant, but remained the most memorable image. It could have been viewed as a symbol for hope, a wish for new beginnings, or as death, the death of a star. She'd been to hasty, had she waited she'd have had a bond with heaven.

The heart was still entitled to a wish, however, and the innocence of that thought made those youthful lips smile wryly. These were the types of things that she was trying to escape. If a child was to be viewed respectfully, they would need to stop expecting promises from burning rocks.

In spite of the reasons for naught, fair lids fluttered over pale eyes, the heart yearning and the brain repressing. Light skin over fair soul. What light over yonder window breaks? With each wave of wonder, excitement, and anxiety for the future, its wake brought in a dark presence, pressing against the eyes and heart.

Forcing the eyelids to open, the heart ringing, the lungs panted for breath as the mind shook away the feeling. It had been a sensation that was so foreign and yet so familiar, like breaking down her walls and body to be totally exposed, it was transcending with the weightlessness of evil. The body sensed death, but she refused to accept it, drawing scratched knees under rounded chin, a show of comfort. She knew there would be no sleep, and that no eyelids would close until the horror had left.

* * *

She took the first echoing step into her neglected bedroom, wet clothes sending rivulets of water down her leg in mazelike patterns. Her shoes continued to cling just as readily as her clothes to her skin, like an old memory from before she had grown into Chronos, when she was still sure of where she was headed. The now broken shoes that supported her feet felt like the only things that were still hers that she could understand.

Another step into the almost unknown room, everything is secretive in the dark, and the door seemed to disintegrate behind her. Her body was exhausted, and the need to crumple into a weary heap almost overshadowed all else, but it could not force her to move. She wasn't sure if lying on the bed now was what she wanted to do, or if standing by the wall and observing the room from afar was a better strategy. The possibility of curling into a corner even crossed her mind, before striking it off as a ridiculous notion. There were a labyrinth of decisions to choose from, but she had no indication as to where to go. The bed seemed almost as foreboding as Theseus's minotaur, and seemed to exude the deathly sleep of Sleeping Beauty.

Her movements from then were sluggish, as if wading through mud. Moving forward with no hint of direction and no way to see through it. As if winding through the spindly passage of her furniture, her mind's feet explored each detail and theoretical path into life before returning back on the skein of thread. But even as she viewed the foreboding room that was beginning to be recalled back to memory, it began to darken. It was a slow dimming, as if a solitary cloud had begun to cover the moon, causingtwisted shadows to creep closer, or each star loosing its light of its own accord, or blinking out one by one. As if she had dropped her clear and strong diamond into the mud, loosing the light she had left. An impression of despair crept into the room through the closed window. It was stiflingly closed, and it almost raised an anger within her, as if someone had locked her in and refused her exit. There was a fleeting feeling of wanting to tear from the room with a speed and swiftness that desolation came from.

These were strange thoughts, but they almost seemed to not be coming from her, as if the room had instilled them into her upon her entry. Or maybe it had now become the symbol for all her confusion, or someone else's, like a link to them, through the closed window.

She gripped her hands around Train's jacket, trying to draw strength from old memories, ones that she understood. What was she supposed to do now? Curling her toes to grip the bottom of her shoe, she held the broken thing to her foot as she walked. It was these pieces that defined her, and she could feel them leaving. It was a frightening feeling, that she was loosing herself.

She sat on the edge of her bed, scooting forward every so often. There was an undercurrent of something she couldn't quite place, but it was forbidding. Like a death bed, her living soul misplaced among the sheets.

Tentatively, she released her arms from around herself, to smooth the area surrounding her, finding solace in the fabric draped around her. Her friends would always be there to help her, no matter how lost she felt, they'd always be there. The sinister tendrils of night that the world was sending towards her could not seep into her heart with this protective shield around herself.

A crumple of paper jolted her back down to earth, whatever darkness that had been imagined disappearing. Picking up the message, she immediately recognized the cursive mixed with block print writing, a note from Janus. Quickly skimming it she gathered that he was back from wherever he had been, and had stopped over to find her missing, but would be back soon. Here was another reason that she felt lost. She liked this guy to an extent, but at times he seemed too preoccupied with the organization, and she really didn't like the idea of him going out as an assassin and not minding the murders. It seemed too cold-hearted for a person, and to be in a relationship with someone like that didn't seem possible. And at times he would be too controlling, like now, forcing himself into her life. Another thing was that sometimes it felt like she was going through the motions, like the whole thing wasn't real from her side. But then at times she felt a sense of belonging, and that was all she was striving for. She didn't feel like she had a goal to run after, and the relationship made her feel like she had a real identity, and wasn't going through the fake faces of another alias. And it wasn't like this man was corrupt or immoral, he treated her right most of the time, maybe her apprehension towards him came from her not able to know what she wanted out of him. What she wanted out of people, or this life.

And if this whole thing really was meaningless, was she using him, or more horribly, vice verse? Or should she even care about that? Was it really that important in her life, but then again, what did she have to compare it too?

She slumped onto her floor, leaning her head back onto the frame of her unwelcoming bed, she'd have to get up to let him in. She wasn't even sure if she wanted him in here, when had he ever really needed permission though? He'd just invite himself… but she had never protested, and it wasn't fair to punish him for her confusion. And really, she couldn't just tell him to leave, because what was she without him? She didn't know where she was headed in life and he was her only real connection to it. Even if Train, Eve, and Sven were her friends, they had their own lives that she really wasn't a part of.

Standing slowly, she switched on the beside lamp and shook her head. He'd be here soon, and it probably wouldn't be a good thing for him to see her in these clothes. Putting on a new face. It would be pathetic to sit around and wait for something to make sense, she'd have to keep pushing forward, and maybe it would become clear in the future. Somebody would pick up her jewel of clarity from this swamp. She just hoped that this desire for change was possible, and that there really was something to be found.

* * *

He slammed his foot into the door, bending the hinges opposite thanthey were meant too. Pulling the two jackets his eyes first laid on, he swept out of the closet, leaving the coat-hangers to fall harmlessly to the floor. Pausing in his rage for a moment to cover Sven's inert body, he made to draw his arms into the jacket slung over his shoulders, eventually resorting to wrapping it around himself, he didn't have the patience to wear it correctly. It was cold out there, and his clothes were wet, he wouldn't be able to kill her if his muscles cramped.

He caught another glance of his friend's lifeless body, and it relit his fury, blinding him in ways he would have thought impossible now. He tore down the walls nearest to him, shredding his way in the direction she had left, finally coming to a room overlooking the alley below. There wasn't even a hint that she had been here. What was he supposed to follow? Why would she come here and just leave as if he were unimportant? He fired a frustrated shot at the window, shattering the reflective glass to litter the floor. He stole one last glance behind him to find the faint motionless figure, and narrowing his eyes sprang out the window.

The pieces of the window crunched underneath his feet and he made his way forward, catching glimpses of his anger-laden face. Reaching the end of the passage, and continuing to find no trail, he let out a following dry howl of aggravation, firing another three shots into the air. She was still nearby, it was like a lingering sensation drawing at the back of his mind. He knew she was here, so it would be useless to use the car. That would waste too much time. He was trying to get her to come to him, even though he knew she wouldn't. More important things to do, killing Sven and then moving along. Had she guessed he would take it lying down, let her run? She was a coward now, she'd lost once and now never be able to fight like she'd used to…a bloodthirsty…_coward_.

She'd be somewhere on these rooftops, even if she wasn't waiting for him she'd be there. Leaping from the ground, he rapidly made his way to the crown of the building, looking around with suspicion. Continuing to find nothing he began to make his way delicately from one roof to the next, any direction would be okay, because in the end he'd find her.

* * *

Shaolee Lin stood on the outskirts of the town, bending over the edge of a building. He'd been watching Number IV, with an almost exultant fascination, make his way into the town, following the smell of coffee.

It had taken him a minute or two to find him, the blind man had hidden the trail well. But it was not like that could have held him out for long. Which it hadn't. It was almost saddening that the man had not noticed the obviousness that it had been planted, but then again he was not one of those great thinkers either. Trying to judge his relative distance and speed from Fanghini, he finally came to the conclusion that he'd catch up soon, but too late.

He had sensed the Black Cat's movements for a second, and knew with a strange sort of assurance that he was looking for a fight. Well, he would get one, just not the quite the type he was expecting. There would be no revenge, but there would be a death. Number XIII's actions were easy to predict, and finding someone as the Black Cat to fight could only work out too well for this strategy. Heartnet would kill again in result of whatever sort of rage was consuming him, therefore impeding his new, unpredictable character from returning. He would be the Black Cat, someone he himself could predict, and be able to use correctly until his plan was complete.

There was a pause in his thoughts as he stalked Kranz's movements, picking his way down the street. It was exciting observing things beginning to play out almost virtually as he'd plotted. The only thing that was in the range of possibility to occur, that would be even more interesting, was to have Train resurface instead of the Black Cat, and seeing how _he_ would react to these situations. Anything in that realm was a mystery to him now, and a challenge he was only delighted to confront.

A falling star.

* * *

**OKAY! I'm finished. What a good feeling. I'm going to start a livejournal to explain everything that I want to explain, so that y'all aren't confused or forced to read ten more pages that you really don't want to read. **

**I apologize for killing SVEN! wow. You can't imagine how depressing it was to write that. And I apologize for the weird sword thing near the beginning, I was using it to try and explain how I view two characters. The same thing with Rin's little room dealio in her head. I'm trying to explain how Train won't be mad forever as well as Rin's character. I'm saying this because I know that it's extremely vague.**

**Hmmm...trying to see if there is anything else that you must know to understand the story... Oh, yes, Rins is having a relationship with Janus in a Trainslet story for good reason... haha. To make the plot better. I'll get around to it. I tried to make it sound like she's questioning the whole thing, I hope that's what it sounded like.**

**I seem to also have this innate want to drift towards the topic of tea. The 'tea syndrom' if I was to put it in words of a friend. **

**I had a lot of stupid celestial references... don't pay TOO much attention to them... I mainly wrote them for fun. **

**And I also apologize for Kranz sounding gay... that accidentally happened. And the freaky sexual undertone that I was getting just now from reading Eve's falling star scene. My last apology now... for referencing fairy tales like a whole bunch. Even when Sven was dying. I don't know why, but I've always thought that fairy tales had a sort of evilness in them. Which might have resulted in my absolute paranoia of Dr. Seuss. His books give me nightmares. :shudder:**

**WELL :MEGA SIGH: I hope this story doesn't make you think I'm an idiot. Which when I read it is what happens... and I hope most of my reviewers stayed and will stay.. and when I get around to posting the oneshot I was writing. That I'm editing now since CrypticAngel pointed out that the ending was as horrible as I thought it was. ((Not her exact words of course)) Life gives me a brain cramp.**

**Hopefully no more writers block. But don't expect an update until after July 9th... because my cousin's are going to be here, and they will take up my typing time.**

**So I guess goodbye until next time. ((and I apologize for Sven's weird last words. As you can tell I've never witnessed a death before, so I'm not quite sure how people talk.))**

**REVIEW! OR THE GRIM REAPER WILL GET YOU NEXT!**


	3. To Lose for Freedom

**ok. I know I promised this Friday, but I had no time. I hope Saturday is good enough. I don't have much to say, surprisingly. i hope this is less confusing to masu..etc. and i hope still as good. yes, unfortunately sven died.. he won't die in my other story i promise. :P haha. and uhm. yes. and sexual undertones. i hope i stayed away frm that this time. i have no time to proofread.**

* * *

She'd get him to come to her. To possibly kill him he'd have to be in her territory with her advantages. But he'd have to come willingly. She'd had enough experience to realize that what she thought of him and his actions were total presumptions, so she'd have to play this by ear, and hope he'd do the same things now that he'd done before.

He cared about the girl. He'd come looking for her, the same way he'd saved the thief, or tried to save the other girl from years before. She hoped she could assume that he would never intentionally leave someone to their fate.

Which was why she was risking his anger, for the only assurance that he would come.

And there was the faint tinge of second thoughts as she wondered if the real reason she wanted him to come was to kill him. There were times when she wondered if following those orders really were the best thing to be done. She almost fancied talking to him about how to escape while he was here.

But first she'd have to get him here. And that required help. She didn't know if she could trust anyone from the Organization. There were few she even talked to now. Which was why it was best she did this herself, and got help from others who wouldn't be intent on her downfall.

It was a big dip from the Time Guardians, or even the few trainees, but a well-trained person was all she needed, and whether they were an assassin or not wasn't a concern. She was confident that he could capture the bio-weapon and bring her here.

Or take her there, she wasn't quite in the hideout anymore. Finally leaving out of that mirrored window, but there was still a prison. It was encased around her body, not the room, nor chair she sat it, but an invisible prison that followed her that try as she might, she could never leave behind.

Finally the man had shown himself, she had an inclination toward the tops of buildings, maybe it made her feel like she could see everything and therefore was on top of it all, in control. Her mind was wandering again. She was loosing her edge that drew itself from her ability to concentrate and outsmart the enemy.

With a flourish of her cape, if she had one, or a flourish of her feet, she flashed onto in front of him. He dropped a small jerk of surprise, but quickly recovered it as he lifted his chin.

Her eyes glinted with malice. Or possibly confusion…maybe fear.

"There is an extremely important task that I need you to do."

* * *

A vacation in front of the mirror. She'd stood there long enough for it to be so. Nimble fingers had attached the diamond heart necklace, her one connection to the life she had left behind, the first thing that automatically defined her as Rinslet Walker and not some shell she had decided to make for personal gain. Though she did miss those characters that had given her so much joy to create. The wig had been a part of many of them, to wear it would show a hint of regret. To wear this thing or not to.. Could that really be counted as a valid life question?

It would be feasible that she had grown her hair out in the few months she hadn't seen him. It would be a funny sight to see his surprise when he knocked it off of her head that night. She knew it was inevitable that they'd end up in her bed, things usually did, it seemed a waste of a joke if it was to play out in something she would rather not have happen.

Not to say Janus wasn't a nice guy, she would never have been attracted to him if he hadn't been, but that attraction always lessened in situations like this. If he was finally coming back from who-knows-where, it would have been _appreciated_ if he just came to see her, and not to, as she thought, satisfy some undertone that played out with all of his conversations. There needed to be a deviation from their usual course, and she was sure he sensed that, maybe he would change these, and that was why it made sense to wear the wig. A change in the monotony that had befell her life.

A surprise, even if it was to be as trivial as this, would draw shock across his face, and that would be something new for the usually so composed man. It was almost reminiscent of Train, after the first battle with Creed that she had witnessed. A faint hint of a smile crossed her face as the memory of his amazement. Why should she deny herself the laugh that was bubbling up inside or her? The thought of his happy demeanor quickly brought it to the surface, and she threw her head back, dropping the wig on the wooden floor. All this time and he was still racking up debt and continuing to pester everyone with his impossible antics.

No use wearing the wig, now. Whatever Janus's expression turned out to be, it would never rival Train's complete disbelief.

There was a pause between the time where she thought of kicking the soggy clothes under the bed and the sudden wires that wrapped around her. With a delicate tug she was hanging out of the same bedroom window that she had fathomed opening in ideas of escape. For the bitter breeze she had opened it for, she had never expected to feel the cold blast of it twice in one night. This time there was no scream of fear, the cocky smirk of his angled down toward her, scooping it up. Not quite a surprise, she had hung from a building already, and the whole concept seemed a little old coming from the man.

"Yo, babe." He dropped them at the front door, releasing her from her bondage.

"Ever since I began associating with you numbers I've been hanging from a building by a single chord a whole hellava lot." She brushed herself off, opening the door with a yank. "And why would you pull me from my room to bring me to the door?"

"I wanted you to invite me in, and besides," he swept in to the room, grabbing her waist and bending her into a flirtatious dip, "I wanted the feeling of saving my mademoiselle. It's exciting don't you think?" He bent in for a kiss, but she maneuvered her head in the last moments to have it pressed against her nose. Wagging her finger as playfully as she could, she began to pry his hands off of her. At least he gave her French names correctly, and actually said them in jest. But they only resulted in the formation of a mild irritation, Train's total seriousness producing idiocy seemed more amusing now with Janus's face bowed over hers, and was much more than Janus had attempted.

Finally loose from his bondage once again, she backed up smartly into the couch behind her, allowing him seating across the low table and far enough away from her. She would really have rathered him not be here, she was exhausted and not really in the mood for dealing with him.

"Wine!" He finally spoke when she allowed no rise to escape, and the silence became inhospitable.

Disappearing back onto her doorstep, she watched his fleeting shadow and entertained the fancy of shutting the door behind him. In reality, it would never be done. It was unfair to him to kick him out for her own selfishness. "What an auspicious beginning to an evening with my supposed love."

Somehow he had reappeared in the seat in front of her, with two delicate glasses poised readily in one hand. "Always one for the sarcasm Rins."

* * *

Abandoning his search on the rooftops he had long ago transferred his feet to the streets below. It didn't even register how there was absolutely no one around. He had to find her before she got out of range, and the car moved far to slow. The fleeting hope fell out of him quickly, but was always quickly replaced with the complete fury. It was a powerful fury. It held a strength behind it that numbed the disbelief or shock, or utter depression that threatened to consume dare he pause in his mind-consuming search.

His eyes did not wander though, to and fro like a stranger to the streets and night, fore he himself did not wander but rather strayed in an organized sort of disorientation, in one direction and then another, studiously so. For each step; he'd find her. He'd find her. He'd find her.

The bell tower was chiming in the distance. They were dull, dim, compared to his racing heart, compared to the thud of his head falling to the floor. One, gone forever. Two, gone forever. Three, the beginning, the end, gone forever. He'd been walking for hours. It was useless, pointless, what a pathetic attempt. There was the fleeting thought of anger at himself for not using the tracker from the beginning. He cursed as he thought of how he had basically disobeyed one of his friend's last wishes, slamming himself against the giant glass window of the building that stood beside him.

He'd lost the trail. Again the crash into the window.

He was Dead. Another resounding collision.

He didn't even know if Eve was safe. Nobody was safe. _Why?_ He beat his head against the glass until the sweet taste of gold coated his mouth. More like the taste of dull metal…that caused death, that tasted of death. Not all that glittered was gold.

He held his aching head, the self-inflicted pain helped nothing, saved nobody. He titled his eyes upward, leaning on the glass. The building blotted out the stars like a VanGogh mistake, there really was no reprieve.

He placed his forehead back onto the cooling glass, the frosty sedative doing nothing to calm him. Blinking his eyes open, he stared back into his own yellow orbs. Where did he go from here? They betrayed no emotion that helped answer anything. The rage swirled there still, wishing for, but continuing to desire the deadened emotion, the ebb. His eyes tired, they drifted down, wide for the anger and helplessness, wider still for the reflection.

There was an immediate step back in result of shock, eyelids blinking rapidly. He was staring at himself, but one he hadn't known for a long time. There was blood, familiar, on his face, on his hands. Hades, Hell, no judgment, menacing only for the black sleeve that covered it. A black overcoat, no. The black overcoat. It whipped around his ankles with unfelt bitter wind, tattered edges of a scarred life mocking him.

He could get over the gun, the eyes, the tattoo, but not this. It was too reminiscent of what he'd tried to leave behind, he couldn't fight that. He couldn't fight the memory if it was the present. He couldn't fight her like this. He couldn't kill her, he'd wanted to kill her. There was too much of an empty and merciless presence that fused with the cloth, that fused with him, losing himself.

The same manic fury, unable to be repressed any longer, forced itself to the surface. It mixed with the frustration, the fear, the feeling of loss, and then it devoured him. It clouded his eyes, and there was nothing. There was his only foe staring back at him, the only enemy he could never defeat, and he stared at him. Simultaneous with a wild cry of desperation and wrath the casing was ripped from his shoulders, and the manifestation smashed.

The reverberating echo was no louder than the chime or the explosion from his gun. And his pounding heart removed the cloud from his eyes, but in turn deafening the ears. Now there was only the sight, and his eyes had returned to the wide shock. Only if they could ever have been wide with innocence…

He'd rather attempt to live and freeze in the wind than pretend to and ignore the howl that would follow him. He had to move now. He had to move away from this. And there was a step, but backwards. In shock, again, into the broken glass. He couldn't hear the approach for his muted ears, and he couldn't see for the distance, but the smell was unmistaken. It was killing intent. It was power, Chronos. It was coffee.

* * *

"I'm not in the assassin business anymore."

"Trust me, if I needed an assassin, I would go somewhere else." For a moment there was a hint of irritation in her voice, but it was quickly replaced by tedious seriousness. "What I need is no-questions-asked and information."

"I don't discuss my past clients, not even to a number."

He talked as if he was superior, or as if he had a choice. The irritation returned. "I just want you to use the information, not give it to me." There was a threatening glint in her feminine eyes, this was why she wished she could still do these things herself. "I want you to capture the bio-weapon, and bring her to me. Bring the scientist along for good measure as well."

His dark cloak rippled over his unbending body, tricking the eye with imagined movement. "You mean the girl that associates with the Black Cat. The one that fought the dinosaur."

She gave no response, there was no question to answer. He really wasn't as useless as the first impression had given.

He presumed the silence was an agreement. "Then, Miss Chronos," his body bent floridly at the waist, in a deep bow, "no."

Useless. The point of her cherished sword was at his throat in just as florid an instant. "Let us use this blade that could so easily be your demise as a metaphor. This handle, is you. I hold it, and I own you, there is no choice in that. I let go when I wish it. And this blade, that is your path. There is no deviation. Obey me."

His body stiffened, yes, but it looked almost customary, maybe he hadn't even flinched.

"I swore I would not cross paths with him again until I could fight him as an equal." Even if his eyes glared with annoyance, her malice outweighed them, but behind them, did they hide desperation?

"Cross paths with him or this sword. Obey me." She repeated, forcing as much intensity as she could into the couplet of words. She could not afford to do this herself, and there was no one she could trust at the Organization. No one she could trust.

There were many breaths of silence between them, the thrice chiming of the clock the only thing able to breach. Maybe while staring at the point of death, he stumbled. "I have promises to keep, and my death ruins the important ones. I will do the task you crave completion for, but do not expect much more."

Again, these statements required no reaction, and with a few more beats of the hushed thumping of the wind, before orihalcon life was lowered. It was a curious silence, then; the drama before the curtains rise, the guillotine before the fall. One last order. "Bring them to me. Here if you desire it. Live by that."

She waited for his retreat, following his movements until they stilled streets down, then relaxed. She couldn't assume that it would be done, but there was the infatuation with the thought that if it was not things would not be in her favor. Therefore, there was the inclination, at least for now, to believe it would be done.

She turned to trace her path back to the chair that awaited her, her electric chair in a sense. It only brought death. But she had to return before a number noticed she was gone, she fathomed they were already rebelling against her, and this would do nothing to help.

The escape from the city could hardly be called that, and the small joy small accomplishment brings was fleeting.

* * *

"Two glasses of the finest wine."

"I'm sure it is, it's always the best with you."

He laughed, it sounded grating and raucous, nails on a chalkboard, unwanted. "I'll take that as a compliment mon amour." He poured it from high in the air, manipulating the liquid and delicate glasses with invisible thread. "Pretty?"

"Awe-inspiring." Sarcasm was the argument of the weak-minded.

"It was a steal at this price, you should know, for the higher ups that is. And of course _I_ could afford it." His eyes weren't on hers, having turned their attention to the placement of the elixir.

But her eyes were on him. There were just too many callous remarks that he had just uttered that shock was an understatement.

Was that an attempt to call her poor? She was anything but. But was he alluding to Train and Sven? How _dare_ he, at least they earned the money honestly, and it didn't involve _murdering_ people, most likely in cold blood at times. It was disgusting… but an unfounded rage as well.

"A steal, right. Mental note. Remind me to go to you for all of my alcohol needs." She cast her eyes down, reaching out a trembling hand for the still swirling wine. What it trembled for was the ambiguity.

He had forbidden her to thieve. 'It could get her hurt' or 'it would require her to travel about too, how would they ever be able to coordinate their unique schedules'? And her life was the easier to leave behind. And she supposed his reasons were true enough. But she had assumed the happiness of having him would fill the gap that living independently and free usually held. Or the adrenaline rush. It had tired quickly. He really was a front to nothing. She was living a life lacking… everything. Sustenance.

Squeezing her eyes shut she held her breath, she'd lost something, everything, and she would never be able to find it. It had been swallowed by the quicksand.

She had been squeezing her hand a little to harshly as well, the crack of glass splintered and brought pain through her arm before she was able to release the grip that now held nothing or reopen her eyes. There wasn't much blood, a few scratches at the most. Maybe his eyes had searched hers questioningly, but she did her best to ignore them. "Sorry. Let me just clean this up."

"Apologizing, Rins? That's unexpected." His eyes had stopped their concerned questioning and were now laughing. That was callous too.

She made her way to her room, she couldn't wear this, there was wine all over it. Besides, she needed Band-Aids, they should be in the medicine cabinet.

He stopped the door with a relaxed hand, smiling. "What? Nothing I haven't seen before." Then that laugh again. Callous. Since when had he become like this? Since she had stopped finding it funny….

"Oh God, Janus. Please stop being pathetic. Go wait outside." His face had taken the form of a confused frown.

"Huh?" Maybe she'd reacted a bit abrasively herself. She wiped a tired hand over her face, forcing herself to calm. She attempted to catch his suddenly focused eyes.

"Okay, sorry for the outburst. I'll be out in a minute alright?" She retried the endeavor to close the door, and yet again his hand stopped her. But this time it was not accompanied with any relaxed motions, and the edge in his voice was not imagined as it had been previously.

"What the hell is that?"

* * *

"Black Cat. How auspicious. Especially when I was looking for a fight."

The made no move toward each other, only positioning their weight and fixating their glares, almost creating a bright thread. Train was the first to tear his eyes away and break it.

They had moved only to glance casually at the broken glass window behind him. If he had just stayed quiet he wouldn't be in this situation. Then he moved them to take in Baldor as a whole. His hand gripped the metal ball tightly, the equipped rockets attacked only too vivid in his mind. A vein pulsed in his neck, the skin so thin, the red elixir almost begging to be freed. It would be a satisfying vent to the frustration that had so accumulated. Those were murdering thoughts.. And he thought he had worked so hard to discard them forever. The final resting place of his eyes fell on the smirk that plastered to the man's face. There didn't even seem to be a challenge behind it, more of a desperation. Or it could have been the mirror that followed him now and haunted his vision, it was a wild and mad smirk that held no sympathy, or no reprieve from the turmoil that was within him.

His head told him to release it, the pent up rage, everything, but his heart told him not too. Or maybe that was vice verse. His heart and head ached alongside one another, there would be no way to discern between the two.

"What, not going to say anything? Not so talkative this time are you Mr. Black Cat? Have you accepted your death?" He began bouncing the orihalcon in his hand, anticipating the first strike. Destroying something would be worth everything that he'd had to deal with recently.

"There's still some one that I need to make suffer. Just go. Just go now. I'm almost positive killing you isn't the thing I should be doing."

He growled. "I wanted you to talk because I thought it'd be something sensible. But I was expecting to much from a traitor like you." The remote control was transferred to his other hand, his thumb hovering over the button. "And what, really, should you be doing that's more important than this fight?"

Gritting his teeth he continued to refuse his hand to travel to Hades. He had to know if there was still conscience within him. What should he be doing? That was what he'd been asking himself. "I need to--"

He broke off, replaying Sven's words in his head. If there was anything important he wanted to grasp hold of, those were the last things that made sense. "Save them. I still have people that need me. And Sephiria. I need to find her and ask her why. Why this is happening now. Why all of you are here suddenly."

"Why should it matter why I'm here? And why care about the future? I'll deal with that when it comes, and everyone else can too. You people just slow me down!" It wasn't quite a yell, but he wasn't talking anymore. Maybe the desperation had seeped into his words, taken over the brain. The only release was the battle…he needed that battle.

"Because there are people I care about! Or there used to be! I don't even know, Chronos just killed them. She just killed my friend, and then she ran away! It's _cowardice_, and she sends you to appease me? What the hell is this!" He didn't know when he'd started yelling, something had snapped. This man, that embodied everything that he hated about the organization, the presence repulsed him. He didn't care about anybody, he held no mercy. There was no regret about helping to bring about the death of Sven. He could have killed him. He could so easily have killed him right then.

"What? Mad at us Black Cat? You should be amazed it's even functioning after you ruined it by leaving! You and your damn partner Creed turned me into a prisoner in the only life I had!" It was a roar this time, and in the echo of the noise came the Steel Ball of Hell rocketing towards him, riding the sound waves.

He could have easily dodged it, but he was to enraged to be so evasive. The anger giving him a type of inhuman strength, he almost swatted the projectile into the ground at his feet. "Mad?" He moved his foot onto the chain, trapping the weapon as best he could. "I'm not _mad,_ I'm furious! I could just tear hell's gates to pieces and then burn them with my hate!" His hands clenched painfully at his sides, even the flat fingernails drawing trickles of blood, and they shook. They shook with a wrath of a wrath suppressed, only now hinting at the edge of the iceberg. A wrath someone could only gain from watching a friend die at the hands of someone he had began to trust, at a group that could kill in the name of peace, ruin his life for a dream. "You people! All of you! We sat around thinking Creed was crazy because he thought he was a god! That he could pass judgment! You all think you're gods…you're all the same you goddamn bastards! I should have let him destroy you! _I _should destroy you!"

He hadn't snapped, this wasn't a snap, this was a bang. He let the rage take over again, it guided him so completely that it almost numbed, his mind would have let go so willingly. If he had desired to blink, the speed the distance had been covered could have been explained as such, but in his reality, it seemed painstakingly slow. Almost simultaneously he had shattered that sneering face's nose and jaw, one knee on the throat, the other on the shoulder. He whipped the gun out in a blur, and the barrel pressed to the forehead in front of him. "Just die. Just…die."

It wasn't a clouding this time. It was a full on blindness. The fury was the only thing before his eyes, it was even reflected in Baldor's eyes, wide mirrors.

There it was again. His reflection. It shone out sickeningly bright with the bitter night as its backdrop. It wasn't even a view of himself, something that should have been so foreign to him, so animalistic.

He was panting now, almost shaking. The grip on the handle remained tight, tighter. Willing him to let go and pulling him away from it. He couldn't. He couldn't just kill him after all of this time and turn his promises invalid. He couldn't let this new life be a lie.

The barrel still pressed against the forehead, shaking, sending ripples of confusion over the reddening skin. Penetrating, he heard the single chime of the clock on the half-hour. Time up.

"No hesitation. It's a weakness." It was clear through his mangled teeth, the pain was nothing, the dead and numb feel no pain.

Train glanced down, his hand still held the remote, the thumb recalling the weapon. Immediate survival instinct came in, and he was able to fling his gun to the side and pull himself into a handstand, Baldor chuckling as it passed within inches of either of their heads. He could have sworn it had taken a couple of hairs with it.

That was to close. Fighting with rage was as dangerous as it was deadly. He grinned then, the man below him, a bloody smile, littered with gaping holes where teeth had once been. It was a cocky smirk.

He couldn't see it, but the sound was unmistakable, the rocket heading closer. Toward his open back. He shouldn't have gotten so close, VIII would be able to attack him with fists as soon as he dodged. Even closer. It was the last instant when me pulled himself away, back onto his feet, he pulled Baldor by the shoulders to follow him. It had been unexpected on both of their parts, and the taller man stumbled for a second as he tried to gain balance. The sickening crunch of bone came before the pain. He has hesitated again, the steel ball had hit him. He sucked in the icy air, it seemed colder now, the sharp edges of it tearing his throat, while he moved a tender hand to hold his ribs. It must be worse than it felt, there was blood everywhere. Baldor was still smirking at him. He stared at the face that had killed him for a few more seconds, before noticing the smirk had frozen. He was still holding him by the single shoulder, and the short gasps came from both of them. He tilted his head down, catching site of the orihalcon weapon resting at their feet, and the large hole that had been torn out of VIII's side.

It hadn't hit him, it had been only a glance. Baldor had taken the full brunt of the attack. In shock he unclasped his hand from the man's shoulder, watching in horror as he sank to his knees. Baldor's one arm inched up towards his face, as if begging, trying to grab that thread to life, but only making it to the bell around his neck. There was a moment when he had held it tightly, using it to keep his body up, but eventually the strength faltered as it seeped, and the arm came crashing down. There would be no silver and gold to build it up again.

He'd killed him. Somehow his hate for the man, or maybe his need for survival, it had forced the body into a shield. He hadn't meant for it to happen…the mind took over…

He smelt the blood, it was there, at the end of the trail, a few hurried steps away. Sweet and rich and sad like a rose blooming and wilting as the petals fall to the floor and the scent curls upwards but it reeks of death, no life, but you love it anyway for it smells just as sweet.

"Fanghini?" he made his presence known with the word, trying to read the air currents for movement or attack. It was his blood, his death he was smelling. Somebody moved, a sharp turn of the head, no hostility. "You killed him." It wasn't a question as much as it was a statement.

"I..I didn't---" now there was a sense of confusion, of desperation.

It didn't make sense that he would die, so easily it seemed. His only partner against the organization. "You killed him."

"I didn't mean to." He recognized that voice, he'd heard it on more than one occasion. He'd heard the sound of the bell, and there was the faint smell of gunpowder, even if it was unshed.

"The Black Cat."

There were two steps back, then two steps forward for the gun, then a retreat. He'd killed him. Baldor had said Train Heartnet didn't kill, he hadn't killed Creed, but he'd killed Baldor. Blind steps forward, he grabbed the front of the shirt, slung the body over his shoulder. He had to move, now. A fear he didn't now he had took over, he wasn't safe. If Baldor wasn't safe then how could he be? He had to tell them, no matter how much he despised them they had to know. She had to know. The Black Cat was back….

* * *

He'd never intended to help her. Not someone who was so blind. It had begun in his mind as a simple rivalry, but looking back on it now he could see it for what it was, that fork in the road that changed his life. It seemed almost planned on his part, except for the fact that he had been oblivious.

Saving someone you'd never met before, caring about their lives because there was someone waiting for them. It was unfathomable yet it made so much sense. He didn't have to be heartless, there was soul in art.

He could have gone through a window, but that hinted at hidden deception, so he went through the door. He wasn't quite patient enough for a doorbell. Silent corridors and dark ceilings met his mind's eye. This world was asleep…

His steps were silent, but his limbs were loose; if she was a friend of the Black Cat's she could be trusted. It meant she knew mercy and kindness, and in a world with so few that could feel that basically letting her die was almost a sin.

There was a stir behind the door beside him, and he paused in his march towards the girl. Stepping back, he was first met with the eyes of a young woman, serious eyes, with a sense of fatigue in them. "Who are you? And what are you doing calmly walking down the hallway inside my house?"

"Who am I? I still think I'm Ruguto Won, master assassin, but the reason I'm here…I could reasonably say for causes of my own or for another."

She studied him for a moment then, seemingly trying to figure him out. He must not have come across as hostile because she wasn't making any moves to attack him.

"Is the fact that you were walking calmly and are now talking calmly to me mean that you have no intention of harming us? Or the fact that you say you are an assassin mean I should be afraid?"

"It is more of a former assassin really," the gaze that held him almost seemed to be looking through him, it expected something that it could grasp and use. And maybe it was because he felt these were people that didn't just see the top layer or act the world seemed to play, but he felt himself explaining things he had never meant to say. It had begun as just an idea to move them so they would be safe, but now he felt himself craving that trust that he had known so few times in his life.

"You knew Train?" That triggered something, even if it could so easily have been a lie.

"Yes, and I know of his numbers, they're after the child. I'm here to take the two of you to a safer place."

She didn't hide the furrow in her brow as she began to think, "and, I believe, you're supposed to be on our side? By what chance did you happen to choose to interfere with something that hasn't involved you for at least a year?"

"They hired me to take her to them." It was the wrong thing to say, she was nothing against him, but it didn't look like she would have lightly accepted his presence for much longer, and the bio-weapon was in the other room. "The sole fact that I haven't acted proves that I haven't taken this as a job."

She didn't look like she believed it. "The rouge could very easily be tricking us into going peacefully, I don't trust you, I don't usually trust men who sneak into my house, but there's something about the way you speak…there's a desperation in there that a person could not fake." She frowned, but it might have been more a downwards turn of the lips, of confusion, nevertheless she finally stepped into the dark hallway, closing the door behind her. "However I really don't think I have a choice, but know that I still don't trust you."

There was a desperation in his voice when he said it, he needed to save these people. There must have been something written somewhere that being stronger on the inside made you stronger on the outside. _Please--_ no, he really wasn't one to beg. "Trust me when I say that I want to help you, if nothing else, because he helped me."

* * *

He watched the figures disappear into the distance, running away. The same thought crossed his mind many times, but something kept him rooted to the spot. The lonely puddle of blood rippled gently in the wind, looking almost peaceful for its horror.

There was something significant in his abhorrence for it. Maybe the fact that he had tried to avoid it, stuck with the character that he had begun to trust, he hadn't worn the overcoat, he was Train Heartnet and had killed someone.

He couldn't run away from it, so his feet remained still. The image bore into his mind like the smell of blood that wouldn't leave…the same sickening smile kept replaying in his head, the continuing chime of the clock, four---gone forever. It was the same blood on the suit, the same blood on the ground, the same blood on him now. He'd killed all of them, just for the fact that they'd known him, they'd died. The burning taste of bile rose in the back of his throat, parallel to the rising memories. If he'd been anyone else…there was too much death here.

The red, the rage, had already stained the shirt, and the smell surrounded him, he already knew the sight. He had tried to escape his past, but it had already come back, he'd dealt with it. Another faint wisp of memory… you couldn't escape your past as long as you kept living the same life. He could never escape himself.

The reek of it all was too much to handle, with the only physical embodiment being the blood on his shirt. Numbly his fingers traced the hem, they moved slowly now, because the idea of escape was impossible. Pulling it over his head he tossed it unceremoniously into the ruin before him. Seep there. The tainted white flag of surrender.

The chill came immediately, if from the bones or from the night, it was an unattainable answer, either or both. The overcoat still lay in its crumpled heap, off to the side, almost the blind-spot. He'd said it once, it wasn't a gun, an object, that could make him change, it was more of the person behind it. Even so, when the dark fabric was pulled around him the need to gag almost overwhelmed him. Hadn't the doctor said that if he'd wear his clothes he'd feel more like his old self?

He clenched Hades tighter, the yearn to replace it in the holster ignored. He had to find Sephira now, but he couldn't kill her. Not now he couldn't, not when the stench lingered so close, but he'd give her what she wanted, maybe Van Gogh would paint him into a star.

* * *

She squinted her eyes, she couldn't really see what he was holding in the dark of early morning. "Cloth?"

His eye twitched, flinging the bundle at her feet. "It's Train's jacket, Rins."

Could he seriously be hinting at something like foul play? The idea of it was comical, and she would have laughed if his face hadn't been so serious. "Ya, so?"

"Do you mind explaining what it was doing on your bedroom floor?"

Why should she be forced to explain herself to him? He was being completely unreasonable…and she should be allowed to see him if she wanted too. "I think it's extremely obvious, he lent it to me."

He was mad at her, she could tell. The way his voice shook, and the vein pulsed in his forehead. It had completely lost it's comical appeal, and had titled toward frightening. "Why, pray tell, would he lend you a wet jacket?"

"This is an idiotic conversation." She crossed her arms stiffly, glowering at him. She had every right in the world now to be mad at him.

He in turn glared at her. "So you're avoiding the question? I don't appreciate you keeping secrets from me."

"We fell in a lake, it was cold, he lent it to me. Happy?" She pursed her lips tightly, kindness was more easily given when his time was asked for, not forced on her.

"You really expect me to believe you fell in a lake?"

"Why else would it be wet? And, yes, I expect you to trust me! I expect you to believe what I say since we're in a _relationship!_"

"How can I when you're the one breaking that trust! You're always with him, or these other people---"

"I can see whoever I want to see! You don't have the right to my _life_, Janus!" Roaring at each other now…it couldn't have just been the jacket being there that had spawned it, it had come from pent-up frustration with each other from far back.

"But I would think I have a right to this relationship, _Rins_, so I'd appreciate it to know that you cared enough to see him less!"

"I'm not going to avoid him to make your pint sized ego feel better! I care about his, their, friendship!" She paused for a deep shuddering breath. "_God!_"

For a moment she thought he was going to slap her, his hand was even poised to do so. "You care _so much_ about that friendship, but you would do nothing for this one!" She had even gotten to the point of squeezing her eyes shut, in preparation for the sting, but could feel the last minute change of direction and the loud snap of her locket breaking.

Opening her eyes slowly, she stared at the small broken diamond that she'd worn since she'd begun thieving, and felt an immediate sensation of pure loneliness. She felt so far from that world, from herself. The tears burned beneath her eyes, she'd thought she loved him. "I gave up everything for you." It was a whisper now, as insecure as she felt.

It wasn't a silence that followed, there was his panting, a hurried attempt to calm his heaving lungs down. And the soft cracks of her toes and muting carpet as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "Rins---" His voice broke.

He tried again, taking a step forward. "Rins, I didn't---I didn't mean too." He tried embracing her next, wrapping her stiff body in his arms. She felt nothing from his touch. "Rinslet…I didn't---I've had a hard day."

She blinked rapidly to hold back the faint tinge of hot water that threatened to spill, she wouldn't cry in front of him, not now. And she refused to speak, it was the only thing that could keep them in. At least she had control over that.

"Rins…come on. I lost myself for a second there." Then he tried to kiss her cheek, to get her to look at him. "Rins, forgive me… Stop squirming, why are you squirming?"

She'd lost herself. And that was his fault. And he wasn't even going to say he was sorry. She turned her head way, just in case she cried. "I can't. Not right now, Janus. Can't you see that?" He didn't answer. "You know what, just…" She sighed, "… I've got wine all over me. I'm going to change. Wait for a minute."

Pushing him away with a hand, she took the few steps to the enclosed restroom, locking the door behind her. Her knees buckled, but the refused to let herself fall to the floor, so she grabbed the counter-top and rested her face on the cool surface until she had better control of herself.

She didn't want to go back out and face him, but where else was there to go? This was her house. Somewhere for now. She stepped to the small window, looking downwards to the ground that was far below. Glancing back she could imagine what was outside the door, and it pushed her into a sitting position on the ledge. Then she looked down on herself, the spots of wine that covered her. She didn't care enough at the moment to change it.

It was a far reach to the fire escape, but knowing she wanted no other choice she eventually reached it, almost falling out. For a moment she swung dizzily, hoping she wasn't getting rusty. All the same, by the time her feet reached the ground the feeling of escape energized her. Escaping from it, or running away, because she didn't want to face it. It was a sort of opening to the world around her, she didn't have to shut it out anymore. She would go back, maybe, when it was time to confront everything back there.

* * *

There was Kranz fleeing out of fear for the Black Cat, the dead number in his hands. He wasn't as useless as he had originally thought.

There was a small smirk at that.

He'd be back at the hideout soon, and if Sephira reacted any way she used to, she'd tell them about it. He would have to be there for that, unfortunately. It was much more enticing of a thought to stay here and watch what Heartnet intended to do next. The reactions he had undoubtedly theorized wrong would be different than any other individual he'd ever studied. There was so much about this character that he still wished to see.

But that wouldn't play out with any plan at all. It was more likely somebody knew that he was gone, II was the best bet. Belze had always had a trust for him that he shouldn't have had. But it worked out to his advantage, meaning that any excuse he decided to come up with would be enough.

The one that stood out the most however, was one involving the Black Cat. Kranz had no proof, really, but _he_, himself, could bring in the belled collar that would prove the loss of his tame nature. That was something that would bring more support behind him. It was almost sad how easily it would be done.

Things were unfolding almost too perfectly.

* * *

**ok. finisihed. wow. i really wish i had let CrypticAngel or someone proofread this. If anybody finds any mistakes your free to tell me. when i get a chance I'll update my lj to try and explain this chap. kk i gotta hurry.. i have to get Remember When's chap out b4 my cousin wakes up.**

**REVIEW OR...RUGUTO WON WON'T SAVE YOU!**


	4. Expect the Unexpected

**Hello everyone. Be prepared to read a 12,000-some-odd word chapter. It's crazy long. Exhausting long. --though I'm hoping it's more of a so-interesting-you-can't-stop-reading-shortness-- But think of it this way...you haven't re-read it 5 times checking for grammar and the sorts. Oh gods I hope it's entertaining.**

**You can forget about reading in this all the excuses people give for having late chapters, because, frankly, I don't care.**

**The Mavericks better win their game today!!!! **

**I want to start spelling Tiayou Tearju, what do you guys think?**

**Oh, and since it's so long I've divided it into three parts for easier navigating. Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: "You're a cynic masquerading as a realist who's secretly an optimist." I own nothing.**

**

* * *

**

There were those few minutes when he had tried to run from the stench that lingered behind him, when the idea of running toward her wasn't running away, but the illusion didn't last for long. And not long after he had tightened the trench coat about him and tried to squeeze whatever solace he could out of Hades, he had arrived back to that explosion of his past.

There was the certitude that if he waited long enough she would show up, and the certitude that if he could just re-holster his gun, he would not betray himself again. And that had caused piteous circles of thought, whether leaving himself open to the attack or allowing it to happen was the betrayal. But there had never been the certainty that she would already be there, boots tainted with Baldor's blood that he had spilt, a hand gripping the torn red collar, blood playing in rivulets down her arm, and a small grin playing on her face.

She snapped her eyes up, and he could almost see the miniscule movements of those orbs in the night as they darted around him, to the gun, his coat, his face, back to the gun. Even at that time there had been the certitude that she'd listen to him if he'd just talked to her first…

But again the unexpected had occurred, and he could understand her pulling out her sword, not seemingly attacking, just taking it out, but he had not expected the laugh. When she stepped from the puddle, he had not expected the feral laugh and the wild eyes fixed on his.

"You look lost, Black Cat."

He continued to stare at her, how could he answer what he didn't know how to react to?

"Tell me," she smiled a large toothy grin, "do you want to die yet?" Slipping the collar into her pocket now, "Or do you want to live, Train, do you still want to live? After all of this? Do you want to live or die?"

"What are you doing?"

She narrowed her eyes critically at him, "Give me a reaction, Black Cat."

"You couldn't kill me."

"Oh," she smiled again, "so you want to live? I thought so. What's keeping you alive then; revenge?"

She wasn't met with a response, but she seemed to find enough in his glare.

"Revenge," she spoke the word slowly, seeming to taste it as it slowly formed. "That's an emotion from your Chronos days, is it not? So you stand before me the Black Cat, it feels good to know that I predicted you well enough to get you to this stage."

Anger flashed through his eyes, and she faltered in her monologue. He could guess at that anger too, _she had been playing with him._

"You want to know what I think about you, Black Cat? With what information I've gathered, I've concluded? That you're not emotionless, in fact you were of such heightened emotion that the other useless members of Chronos couldn't even comprehend it. I think that's what Creed saw. This dynamic character of yours, able to be here at this red-hot anger and vacillate to a deep-seated depression. I think that makes perfect sense, don't you?"

And she grinned again, maliciously, laughing at some own internal joke.

"And, what was it that caused that depression the first time…?"

And he had snapped, he hadn't meant too, he really hadn't. But he had fired a single bullet at her. There was a certitude that he wouldn't hit her, or course she could block these things. And that the dread had come back, he had started this fight, that certainty that he was losing his own identity with each bullet. And there was that small certainty, that small one that told him that she deserved it, that there was something wrong with her, that the person before him could never be Sephiria…

And again, those certainties had shattered. Like the blade that had been brought up to block it. Snapped in two in her hands and fell to pieces on the cold street. And in the silence that followed, the silence after the unexpected, after the echo had faded away, _an orihalcon blade couldn't Shatter_, she grinned at him. A façade, _what big teeth you have. _He still didn't expect the wild eyes.

"You look lost, Black Cat."

* * *

They had both left in the confusion. He hadn't expected to run into the Black Cat so suddenly again, he had expected Train to run away. It had been lucky that he had still been wearing her mask, Sephiria's mask. The Black Cat might have questioned the broken blade, but personally Shaolee still thought that he hadn't ruined the act, and Train couldn't have figured out that it was someone else instead of Sephiria. It had been too close though, in his rush he hadn't been paying attention. His plan had been slightly tainted, but maybe it was all for the better, it would definitely make things much more interesting now. 

He'd have that curiosity now, he'd want to figure out what was going on besides just having that drive for revenge, there was something moderating those emotions he was relying on for the depression. That of course meant that he'd have to come up with something else to push him back down. Curiosity killed the cat… it was quite the opposite.

Another death wouldn't do it, not this time, he had probably numbed himself to some degree, he'd have to hit him deeper than that, he'd have to have the people he relied upon turn against him. The person Train Heartnet had relied on the most had died at his hand, well at Sephira's hand, but they were one and the same. Without Sven he was sure Train would lose track of his identity, that second friendship was what had kept him so knotted to that useless sweeper life. And it had been because of that man that he must have been holding back all that wonderful emotion that the Black Cat could show. It would be a beautiful thing to see it all explode from that character, what new conclusions would make themselves apparent, the vastness of the new discoveries made him want to thank the Elders all the more for giving him this opportunity. And they had most certainly been right, who would dare attack Sephira? She had the greatest interweaving mind he'd ever witnessed, the Black Cat was certainly crazy to have attacked her, to want to kill such a perfect being. That one had a dangerous mind, and with those skills Chronos bestowed upon him, he would do many dangerous things. The Elders were definitely right, he needed to die to keep the world safer.

Finally he was rid of the costume, tucked away beneath several layers of clothing, hidden to the other Chronos members, all they would see was the story he would weave for them. The one of the Black Cat's betrayal. Then the world would be after him, and he couldn't run then, and that would be the time for the impromptu part of this plan to come along. The one that would deal with this unexpected confusion. A friend turning against him. Who?

But that was something he would have to think about in the future, the thing of most importance at the moment was proving his own innocence to Belze and Sephira. They would never suspect what good he was doing for the world. _A true favor is one done out of humility, one that no other person knows about._ A real mind thought of that philosophy.

The Black Cat's collar, there was no point in being afraid of the freed soul, he would be tamed again. _I will tame him._ The depression would tame him, the death he'd planned for him would tame him.

* * *

She had just arrived back from the city of lights, telling herself she felt lighter than she actually did. She was supposed to feel like she had accomplished something, one of the plans that she had worked on was unfolding, she was supposed to get a sense of satisfaction out of that, like she used to. But there was nothing. Where was the peace that she needed? Maybe the assassin wouldn't help her as she would have liked, but was a commoner really so idiotic that they would go against the spine of the country? Won must have known, must feel some fear towards her. If she had lost that supremacy than she had lost her power. People feared her status and capabilities, and after the scar that limited her, she was nothing in a battle. If people could sense that, then the power that she had worked so hard for, and trained her mind so diligently for, would be taken away. 

She would die without that, she was nothing without it, an even more hollow shell than she was now. They must still look up to her as a leader, someone must. Belze might, he always walked into the room with a certain amount of respect, it could only mean that he thought of her as a leader, and while she had that, one ally maybe, she wouldn't be cast aside for her weaknesses. It was a small strand of hope…

There was the slow turn of the doorknob in front of her, she hadn't bothered to sit and stare yet, and the calm, towering presence of the second-in-command, number II, drifted through. It was a moment that paralleled with 'speak of the devil', and there was a slight bit of satirical humor in that thought. They were all murderers, were they not? Devils?

"I'm sorry, Sephira."

There was something in the tone of his voice that made her genuinely believe that he meant it, and it was just what she needed, something else to worry about. "I've lost control of everybody, haven't I?"

He fixed sorrowful eyes on her, and she could almost feel his imaginary hand on her shoulder, comforting her, telling her she wasn't worthless. Maybe it would have been more believable to actually hear someone say it out loud.

"What do I do now, Belze?"

There was a long pause after the question, and he didn't answer her, maybe it was unprofessional of her to show weakness like that around her soldiers.

He moved to raise his hand back to the closed door, resting it on the knob with all the look of a person fixing to leave, "Kranz came back from wherever he went, turns out he was following Number VIII; he found him dead."

Kranz and Baldor had left against her orders? She had been trying to stop a rebellion and all she had caused was a greater and more secretive want for it. And the most shocking of course, Baldor was dead? Who could possibly have killed him? Had Creed returned, or was another enemy on the horizon? A person strong enough to murder Chronos members was one to be wary of definitely, one that she couldn't deal with right now. But she had too, she was their leader, if she fell as well Chronos would crumble.

"I suppose you should bring him in then, Belze."

There was a minute nod of his head as he continued to stare at his hand on the doorknob. Slowly turning, pondering something, and staring out into the hall.

"When there are too many problems for me to bear, ma'am…" he started off tentatively, but his deep voice carried across the room, a rumbling warmth that calmed like tea for the soul. "I only concentrate on one thing at a time, for me, it's easier to fight a man and think about the next attack, then fight a man and think about all the places I should bury him for repentance."

And then his eyes flicked towards her, wondering how many borders he had crossed, and if he had ruined himself by doing so. And she held those eyes, for the second that she could, marveling at the human beneath her soldiers.

He had left then, gone off to retrieve Kranz, and had left her to push her way through everything once again. The issue of the two numbers disobeying her orders and leaving the premises could not be taken further, since there were more pressing matters at hand, so she would have to take that as another weakness of her leadership, one that by keeping them here wouldn't change, she had to fix herself first. The Elders' orders, _that_ she had done something for that would suffice for now, and it was as much as she could do. And what she really wanted, the answers to what she had begun questioning, would have to be suppressed. She hadn't been made to wonder about the rules or the path of her life, but to hold them rigidly so that the people of the world would live in relative peace. It didn't change the fact that she had realized that she was another piece in one of her games, but she knew that to be able to understand and to react to everything that was going on correctly, she would have to ignore that need for this next hour. That way she could at least set things going the way the Elders' would want things to be going, and she would have to worry about the moral implications of that later, in private, when she was less apt to show weakness to her soldiers.

The stench of blood reached her nostrils before a weakened Kranz entered the room, arms shaking slightly for having to carry a man for miles. And there was a slight pant to his breath, and she would have taken it as fear if the man had been one to ever show emotion.

Belze followed after, straight back and strong eyes hard and set for business. A silent awkwardness permeated throughout the room, as each person in turn waited for another to speak, and it was finally broken by Number II clearing his throat and addressing the younger man.

"Tell us the facts of the situation, Number II."

"It wouldn't have happened if you had never locked us up in here."

She imagined herself as she once was, able to push someone back into their place, or at least be able to force that person to recognize her utmost authority. There had been a taciturn power and confidence in that. But she had changed, too many parts of her had been torn out of her to be sure that the order she had given was even correct.

"Are you questioning your superiors?"

Belze had said it, and she thanked the heavens that she had him on her side.

He mumbled something incoherent before continuing, "He snuck out, tonight, and I followed his trail into the city, but when I finally caught up with him…" he faltered, and she imagined the fear again, but it could only have been a slight shiver.

"I'm guessing you found him dead?" The man next to her said, seeming to tower for the both of them. She didn't want to look weak in front of him again.

Kranz nodded and for a second she cursed his sightlessness. And she decided it was high time she said something. "Did you happen to sense another presence? I want to know what we're against here. Belze, did you see what state Number VIII was in?"

The tiniest of smiles appeared on his face, one that if she hadn't been so focused on him she might have missed, before inclining his head in a half bow. "Yes, I saw Number IV carry him in. Somebody had torn out his left side from just beneath his rib cage to his hip."

"Well that was pretty gruesome, wasn't it?" Shaolee entered the room with an innocent smile on his face, but a smug smile in his eye, billowing sash flicked just enough to re-shut the door.

"You can't just walk into one of my meetings." She had never liked the way this guy had pranced around, Belze trusted him, but this kid, he always brought a sort of vast emptiness with him, and reminded her too much of herself to ever trust.

"It seemed fairly important, and I might have something to add."

"So you left without telling either of us as well?" Kranz felt like he could hear a pained sigh entwined with her words, a tiredness that he had never expected from her. More importantly, how could she say that? It was practically because of that insane rule that Baldor had died.

"I felt that the need to leave arose, sir, you understand don't you? I've always been good at gathering information, and there's been too much trouble going on to let it go."

So he could just leave whenever he wanted because he was Number II's favorite? This child hadn't even been in training when Baldor and he had been with Chronos. If anyone should have gained trust it should have been them. And yet, it must have been the lack of it that caused his death. "That's not what's important ma'am!" He then half-turned to Belze, addressing him as well before continuing to release the tension he had gathered towards her. "Ma'am! What's important is that my partner's dead, and that the Black Cat killed him!"

Sephiria was shocked into silence for a moment, Train? Killing someone? It wasn't even unexpected; it was near impossible. "I trust your senses, soldier, but Heartnet refuses to murder, we all witnessed that at the battle with Creed."

"I've met him on more than one occasion, ma'am. I know what his presence feels like." She basically just turned her head to Lin's disobedience and yet she locks _us_ up and now degrades _me_? At any other time he would unquestionably obey her, but the more he studied her, the more he believed that she was unfit to bring Chronos, and himself, to its full potential.

"I believe it," her co-leader started, now see a _man_ could get this job done, "Creed's the only other person I could think of that stands a chance against one of us, and that type of mutilation isn't common for his attacks. Besides that, I doubt some other person has just appeared who's strong enough to do that. Train's the only viable person."

"He's dangerous. Like the Elder's said." Shaolee had said that. When had he found that detail of her conversation between the Elder's? She hadn't allowed him to eavesdrop for long.

"I refuse to believe it. Baldor could never bring out the killer in the Black Cat, not when Diskenth couldn't." She didn't want to believe it was more like the truth. She had gone against the Elder's in the trust that he had changed, the hope that she could change as well. That she could live a life worth living, one that would not so easily be lost in the whirl of the city's lights.

"And that's why I'm here." This time the smug smile spread across his face, whatever meekness he had ever shown in any one of their encounters gone.

Belze studied him through squinted eyes, maybe he had begun to see the change as she had. He seemed to revel in the apt attention, and moved slowly to adjust his ponytail. "Like I said, I felt that something was wrong. I arrived to find Number IV here fleeing with Fanghini."

"I was not fleeing," Kranz started, immediately jumping to his own defense; they were degrading him again. "I had too--"

"Oh, you must have been maneuvering then, isn't that what soldiers in the army call retreat to hide their fear?"

If only Baldor was still here, he would have bared his fangs for the two of them.

"That's enough!" Belze Rochefort yelled loudly in his deep baritone, and even as she was silently thankful for his presence once again, she had never expected him to raise his voice, especially since she had never witnessed him do anything of the sort. "You are to never act as unprofessional as this around another member of this organization. Now Number X, give us your reason for intruding and then the both of you _get out_. There are a lot of things that need to be decided, as well as how many of the Numbers should be involved."

Shaolee continued smiling almost unperturbed, finally producing a blood-drenched bell and collar from his pocket. "The reason for my leaving against my superior's orders. The proof of the return of the Black Cat."

She immediately recognized the blood as Baldor's, it was exactly the same that covered Kranz. She slowly walked to meet Shaolee's outstretched hand, and picked up the bell to examine it. In her hand, or more like the hand of Chronos, because she did not own herself, she held the only thing that had kept him sane, the only symbol of hope she'd had for salvation.

"That proves it then," Belze announced, taking charge of the situation once again, "the Black Cat has returned, you will stay at the base and await our instructions. And contact Number VII as well, Janus might know how this happened."

She disinterestedly watched them leave, immediately returning to the collar in her hand. How had he gone about it? Had he deliberately thrown it in his wake as a message to her? Had it been an accident? Had he meant to come after her, the organization? Why, what had happened to cause it? She hadn't done a thing, and she could almost say she trusted him, had the Elder's betrayed her?

This time it wasn't an imagined hand of his on her shoulder, or imagined comfort. "There isn't time to contemplate something that you cannot figure out now, we need to figure out how we're going to respond to this. And right now Sephiria, Chronos needs your brain."

"That's right…" For a moment, all the turmoil that had filled her for so long was lifted off of her, he had called her Sephiria, and maybe for some people there was no importance in a name. But recently, when she knew the role of Number I of the Time Guardians could never be played by her again, the identity of Sephiria became all the more important. Her new name was important to her. "…Belze."

* * *

Free for the moment. And in the dead of night, she could almost pretend that there was nothing to go back too. She could let the fairytale stories travel though her head. 

Sold all her businesses maybe, or was on her way to a late night flight, China or Africa.

They seemed far enough away.

Her fantasies obviously didn't last forever and her mind slowly drifted back to Janus. He really hadn't attacked her…but she had felt threatened. That thread of adrenaline had run through her.. And here she was.

Knowing him he'd apologize, run his fingers through her hair, offer to take her out to dinner tomorrow. She guessed she was supposed to be thinking about how she would answer. Isn't that what a person in a healthy relationship would do?

She hated knowing that she would be unable to refuse, unable to give up the only person that proved that Rinslet Walker was her real identity and that she hadn't lost herself somewhere in her multiple jobs.

She stood in the middle of a street now, not quite sure where she was, and reached up to feel the missing necklace. She could fix it, it had only broken, it wouldn't take much to fix. It was stupid of her to have gotten all worked up about it.

Her fingers rested on the empty cavity that formed between her neck and her collarbone, could a symbol really be that important? In a way it reminded her of Train, no doubt he'd laugh at her for being so stupid and putting so much worth in things like those diamonds, or Janus.

He always seemed like nothing bothered him. Was he really just like the next guy, hiding his past inside of him, or had he really come to terms with it? How did he go around remaining so clear-headed?

It made her think that there might be something in sitting on the rooftops. Maybe a weird type of meditation type thing. For a moment she pictured Train with a tight topknot and singing hymns in the garbs of a monk, and cracked a slight smile.

Okay, maybe it wasn't meditating that was going on up there, but she would at least check it out. She wasn't quite ready to go back to her apartment just yet.

It was harder to get up on a roof than she thought. It turned out that most buildings didn't have that oh-so-convenient fire escape ladder that were always in the right place at the right time for those movie stars running from mobsters. What was that supposed to prove for her? That life wasn't a movie, or a game… or whatever.

She settled back onto her hands; leaning back, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The air seemed cleaner up here if nothing else. Slowly pushing her legs over the edge of the building, she felt that quicksilver thrill of adrenaline again when they swung through empty space. She cracked a slight smile again. She had forgotten what it felt like to just be pushing the rules for the hell of it.

This was the moment where she was supposed to silently curse Janus, but she knew she would never be able to. When someone's actions bothered you to this extreme, was that love? She'd heard so many stories, and she couldn't decide if maybe that was a reason she couldn't push him away. What was love, really?

She was afraid to lose him, she knew that. But she was afraid to lose a lot of people, Train, Sven, and Eve were three of them. And she couldn't quite say she was in love with Eve. That was a little strange, really.

There she was giggling again, if someone was watching her they were sure to think she was going just a tad bit crazy. Well, being out this late on a roof was proof enough that she might've been crazy.

Someone watching her. Shivering in spite of herself, she turned around slowly and opened her eyes. Nope, nobody behind her. That sure had ruined the moment. She angled her head forward; then almost jumped out of her skin. Somebody _was _staring at her. Or staring through her, or over her. A long dark coat that hung almost dead around the ankles, and she was almost immediately struck with the idea of a grim reaper and its bone-chilling emptiness. It wasn't fear, she expected fear. But how could she say anything about expectations when she never really believed that it could have happened? But that was true of people, that they never really expected anything out of the ordinary to ever happen to them.

After a few moments she got over the idea that he might've been trying to kidnap her since the both of them seemed to just be staring at each other. It was the same trench coat that Train had wore when he had come and saved her from Creed, what was it, decades ago? And her head kept telling her that Train was standing there, that he had done some strange three-sixty from the few hours ago that she had seen him. But yet she refused to stand up to check if it possibly could be, because her heart kept telling her that there was no way Train would ever wear that again. No way that he could ever have associated himself with death.

Which is why her heart almost stopped again when he flashed within two feet of her face. Had she been any other person, she would have bet money that his eyes hadn't been filled with mirth only a few hours ago.

He spoke first. She was still trying to believe that the thin line of blood that had dried on the side of his face was real. "Go home, Rins."

She spluttered for a second, but the look in his eyes brought her back down to earth. "What? Why? What happened to you, are you okay?"

* * *

He had expected her to take charge of the situation, to give off that quiet yet powerful aura that she usually did, one that would strike fear into even the strongest of them. But he had felt almost nothing like that from her, he had even sensed her weary detachment, something that the piercingly focused leader had refused to give off before. And that was the sole reason he could stand here in front of the door, using his trained ears to catch drifts of her conversation. If VIII had been here the man would have said that he, Kranz, wouldn't have had the balls to do it... But the total unexpected change of her was like accepting the unknown; near impossible. And it being uncharacteristic of her was the reason he had to figure it out, because once a person could understand something they wouldn't fear it. 

He pictured a far-away look in her face, and he had always seen sharp blue eyes in his imagined her, shockingly blue eyes that would be clouded over, like an aged warrior of Troy maybe, just going through the motions. He had heard snippets of the conversation, something about how she couldn't control them anymore. And it was night, he knew that, and he imagined the huge windows that he had actually seen long ago were letting in full blasts of moonlight, taunting the corners and sharp angles of the room and people. A nice, broken picture it would make.

He heard something about Heartnet, so she must have believed him then, listened a bit longer. Had she lost control of him? Three years back or today? He shivered as he remembered the image he had conjured in his head, he could still taste the blood in the air.

He heard a bit about Janus then, and Baldor. They had all been completely loyal to the organization, but something happened after Creed, after the decline of Chronos and its influence around the world. It wasn't outright disrespect, no one who had worked this life could ever go against it to that extreme, it was more of a questioning towards it. To stop following _blindly_ and to try and _see_ what was actually going on.

And he had definitely pictured her with her eyes clouded over. She had softened somewhere, she wouldn't let him die. She wouldn't let the organization kill the Black Cat. Even after he had killed Baldor she would let him live. The sharp blue that had been her eyes wouldn't be able to see the danger, or the disloyalty she was showing towards Them.

"Who am I supposed to be loyal to now? What's the right thing, or what's better for me? Sephiria, should I take the example and stop following the rules I grew up with? Do I stop following you?" Did he trust the Elders who had given him this training, the entirety of his life? Or the person that he had followed unrelentlessly for years?

"I would say talking to doors isn't a good sign, but better advice would be to quit eavesdropping before our Leader comes out here." As always the younger man appeared in his flamboyantly stealthy way. His confidant creep speaking volumes for his presence.

The blind man remained silent; it had never been his job to do the talking, Baldor had been the mouth.

"That's Socratian thought, you know." He twisted a strand of hair either absentmindedly, or not, round his finger. Long black hair and childish features. "The rational inquiry toward authority, that is, not the silence."

It wasn't absentminded, he sensed only deliberate motion about him.

"He was a great man of his time, you know. Persecuted for his beliefs. And he was just trying to make his world a better place."

If he was such a deliberate person, then there would be a certain reason behind this conversation. They hadn't talked before the battle at Creed's castle, and they hadn't spoken afterwards. "You obviously didn't just come back to have a philosophical debate on the classical world. If there's something specific behind this I'd like to know."

The slow twirling of his finger slowed to a stop, and he settled into the conversation, neatly folding his arms. "You don't talk much, but at least when you do it's fairly profound. All VIII ever did was growl."

"Don't discuss Baldor derogatively once he's been murdered." Said with as much conviction as he could, Kranz tried to produce the aura that their leader had been lacking. (Authoress: One too many d's in that last statement.)

The other Number held up his hand in mock surrender, or it might have been a show of peace. "Somebody had to discuss the man, Sephiria never will. She's been ignoring life recently."

"It's almost heresy the way you're speaking." Kranz's words softened skeptically, he was still unsure of where things were headed.

"Hardly, and I'm right am I not? You were just thinking about going against her and getting the job done."

There was an amused lilt to his voice that almost could have been annoying.

"Job?"

"The removing of the Black Cat… even from our peripheral vision." This time there was a subtle careless conversational tone in it, as if the overwhelming idea of it was uninteresting.

He answered in shock almost immediately at what he had tacitly hinted at. "You do realize that Sephiria wants him alive? Killing him or attempting too would put me more under than just this version of a house arrest."

(Authoress: Dude, you're totally harshing my mellow.)

"Rebellion isn't nearly as unexpected in great civilizations as you think it is. It should be expected by anyone who bothers to know our history. After all, the Han dynasty was the result of one of the greatest of all revolutions in classical China."(1)

(Authoress: What the hell is Shaolee talking about? Go read the footnotes.)

Kranz paused for a moment to get the full affect of what he was saying. Kill the Black Cat? First of all, he had thought about it, but actually carrying it out? Impossible. He had obviously torn into Baldor with ease, what could stop him from doing the same to them? Being three feet tall again? And Sephira… his loyalty for her was still up in the air, she hadn't given him a reason to follow her.

"You're smart, I understand that. But you're also a child. You must understand that the Black Cat is capable of many things above the level that you might believe. And Chronos isn't exactly one to…" The conjured image of the blood-stained night and two frozen figures crept readily back into his head at the thought of the power behind Hades. Involuntarily, he shivered at the thought. Yellow eyes, he'd heard he had yellow eyes, like a creature.

The younger man had stood calmly while accepting the speech, slowly dawning a detached sadness at the man's words. "You haven't decided your ultimate path then, have you? Common sense, using your mind for once?" He paused, readjusting the sash strewn across his shoulders, the pensive look coming back for a moment. "All I need to know, is if I call you to help avenge our fellow Number, would you go against our weakening leader?"

Once again he didn't answer, yes or no didn't answer a question like that. But he must have taken the silence out of the confusion as an answer, because he promptly walked away, a confidant creep, and he knew the answer would probably end up being yes. Yes to the heresy, blasphemy, or rebellion. He had twisted him around his finger with his acting and philosophical mask. And he hated it, having to always be told what to do, hated being the follower once again.

But he admired him, not just for taking charge of what Sephiria had left behind, but for the powerful aura of ferocity that billowed behind him.

* * *

His yellow eyes continued to bore into her, she could almost see the thoughts running behind them. Skimming the surface at breakneck speeds that she didn't even want to fathom.

He didn't answer, and she began to sense that something worse was going on then she was imagining. There was an awkward silence between them after her outburst, and she soon found herself shivering again. She tentatively reached out a hand to attempt to brush away the blood from his face, it was marring something that had been so beautiful in its innocence.

There weren't supposed to be awkward silences with Train, he was supposed to be eternally happy. He was supposed to be crazy and fun to be around, let her relax. She didn't want to see him like this. She couldn't see him like this. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and dangle her legs over the side of the rooftop.

But the moment she touched him, he flinched away. Quickly grabbing her wrist, he sank onto the area next to her, his lips silently forming his earlier words repeatedly; pleading with her.

She did her best to gaze intently at him, willing herself not to be spooked by his restless eyes. "Tell me why, Train." It was the faintest of whispers, she almost didn't want to know.

He looked past her for a moment, and what she could only assume was pain crossed his face. "Sven's dead."

She tried to focus on him again, but had to revert back to scrunching up her eyes, covering her ears with her hands. He was lying. She wanted to tell him he was lying, she wanted so badly to be able to scream the words at him and drown out the lie that was echoing in her head. "How..Did you..Eve?"

She turned her eyes towards him, searching his face. Her hands were still clamped firmly over her ears.

He was still staring off at something behind her, "Sephiria killed him, at least I..I don't know...he.." he trailed off, and that same haunting expression came back. "And I killed him, Rins, I killed him."

If she had thought her world had come crashing down a moment before she had been entirely wrong. She was supposed to be able to rely on him, Train wasn't a killer, she was supposed to be able to believe that. But as much as she wanted to curl her knees up to her chest and ignore it, she couldn't ignore his face. Again she reached up to try and touch him, if he was solid and warm it might've done something to pull her back down. If she could just give him any sort of comfort, maybe it would have calmed him down. But he pushed her away again, pleading at her with his eyes now. "No, Rins, don't you see? I'm a monster, Rins. I killed Baldor, I killed him...and the blood..."

Tears stung at the back of her eyes, and she fought to hold them back. How did she stop him? How did she fix him? She couldn't handle this.

"Train...look at me." She brought her hands out numerous times, quietly fighting herself while trying to grab ahold of him and trying to figure out just what the hell to _do_ with her hands. "Look at me, Train.. Stop, please. I can't.. I don't know what to do."

He backed away from her again, eyes flicking to her face then back behind her again. "I'm a monster...I'm a monster again.. I couldn't stop it..."

"Look at me Train..." She looked down at her hands, back at his face, then down to her hands lying useless in her lap. "Look at me, dammnit Train!" Tears were now streaming down her face, "I want to help you!"

Once more at her hands, his empty face, then back down at her hands. And suddenly with a gasped sob she gave into the utter confusion and pounded them into his face.

* * *

The bustle and shuffle of feet and the rank odor of beer and men who had come to drink away their week's wages hit her before he had even opened the door.

He being Ruguto Won, the assassin that she had heard about on one of her earliest missions with Sven and Train. Train had told her he was a martial arts master. And Sven had told her he was worth more than all the sweeps they'd done the past two months.

Unexpectedly, he didn't look as dangerous as he sounded. But then there were times when his strange walk, with his arms hanging loose up till his hands, which were clenched tensely, and the clamping and unclamping of his jaw, sent out an ominous presence.

Tiayou had been resting her hand on Eve's head every once and awhile the whole journey. Then she would murmur something, and push up her glasses with her right forefinger.

She could be pretty sure that her mother didn't know Ruguto, but she didn't look too scared to be around him. It might have had something to do with what Sven had taught her about chasing the criminal, and 'status quo'. Tiayou had said something about this being the 'smartest action to take for their safety.' As of right now.

She sized the assassin up. Fairly tall for a man. Maybe around six feet, give or take. Hair that was too long to make him that young, and small eyes. Most likely fast considering who he was and the fairly slim build. Even so, she figured she could take him.

But the bar was what demanded her immediate attention. A lot of the people had turned to look at the two woman who had walked in, and Eve felt the faintest flicker of memory regarding the Sweeper's Café. Except this place definitely seemed much more shady.

Her surveying of the room was halted, unfortunately, when a short man with greasy black shoulder-length hair and a witch's nose placed a wimpy hand on her shoulder and figuratively stuck the monstrosity right into her business.

"An assassin's guil' ain't no place for lil girls," he gave Tiayou a fast once over, "thuh she don' look like one neither." Even his voice sounded oily.

Just like the Café, she'd have to prove her worth before they'd leave her alone. But she figured that these dark souls would need a bit more of a push. She formed the worst scowl she could muster, one she'd practiced in the mirror many a time, and tried to make herself as scary as possible before flicking the pathetic man's hand off. She ignored the slight quaking of her heart.

"I eat tiny men like you for breakfast." Using her hair, although short, to make herself look even taller, she morphed the ends into her trademark nano-blades, and, as an afterthought, lengthened her canines a few inches. She wasn't sure if she came off more as a wolf or a vampire, but it looked like it had the desired effect. He backed off, and others went back to whatever illegal business they were involved in.

"And do not tell me what I am, or what I am not."

Her mother put a firm hand on her shoulder and gave her a disapproving look. Then, pushing up her glasses with the other hand, sent a glance into the corner of the room behind Eve. After she reversed the vicissitude, she too stole a glance into the corner, finding a large man with a grey hood that curved high above his head, but whom was almost certainly studying her.

She felt the faintest hint of recognition, but couldn't place it for the fleeting glance, the protection of the cloak, and the people and smoke that filled the distance between them.

There was no way he could know who she was; how many people believed in a cyborg? He was probably some strange religious radical, and thought she was a demon. She dismissed it for the moment, and ignored the returning shiver.

The assassin was leaning over the ledge of the makeshift bar they were in. He seemed to draw something quickly in the filth of the counter before wiping it away quickly. His eyes met briefly with the bartender. Or maybe he was an informant.

Eve decided she'd take the time to study him briefly, you never did know when remembering this guy would come in handy for tracking other criminals. The problem was how nondescript he was. Average height, slightly pale complexion on brown skin and large eyes, like some nocturnal animal, –which he probably was– stringy, brown on black hair that hung in almost ringlets down to his chin, and a large humped nose. Cyrano would have been proud. He looked just like every other person in here running from the law.

They were mumbling back and forth, and she stepped just slightly nearer to them, and morphed her ears just a tad bit larger so she could hear over the recommenced din of the hideout.

"–a sweeper!"

"He wouldn't turn us in, he didn't turn me in when he had the chance." That was Ruguto. He had his head bent to hide his mouth behind his hunched shoulders, but she could tell from his eyes that he was the one speaking.

"Tell me, do you really expect me to harbor enemies?"

"No, but I expect you to listen to a top assassin." From what she could see he narrowed his eyes. The worried frown never left the other man's face.

"You led the sweeper you expect to follow them right to my door. Just for some, what, honor, promise? What does that even mean to people like us? They are not _physical_ Don."

"People like you, _senor_, and its not just any sweeper."

She was distracted by 'her,' for he had been looking at them, figure in the corner shifting suddenly, and missed the conversation. She looked up to Tiayou to see her staring at the inside of her eyelids, almost a type of calm meditation. She slowly opened them to look at Eve and placed her hand on the young girl's head. Like a bridge between them, it brought Eve a moment of safety and serenity.

From there, large eyes turned to Ruguto who was now standing with his back to the informant, his long arms hanging loose by his sides.

* * *

* * *

It might have been nearing morning by the time they had gotten to the motel room. There had been no fancy flying around on Train's part to get them places, and she wasn't quite sure what she was going to think about that just yet.

The point was that she might have been able to figure out if it was morning if there had just been a damn window in the room. She hadn't brought money with her, obviously, and he was being so silent that it had become too unnerving to even think straight.

Beggars couldn't be choosers after all, and she had to make do with flirting him into a dank, most likely roach-infested, room that had been down the street.

If she hadn't had to practically drag him the whole way, she might have been able to find a better place to put him.

She sighed, and looked at Train again. He still had that blood on his face, and his skin had a translucence to it that she feared if she gripped his wrist too hard she would pass right through. But his eyes were what made her want to smack him again. They were staring fixedly at the ground; or maybe his feet. Wide and half-lidded. Aptly and dull. Just as forlorn as it was emotionless. Staring into his own secrets.

And he was just so damn _silent_.

And it was just so damn _dark_.

And she might have been incredibly irritated at the whole situation if she wasn't just so damn _scared._

Frightened, those chills that run down your spine, the hair raising on the back of your neck, the rolling of your stomach, _all_ of it. And it was worse because she didn't know what the hell to do about it.

He slipped from her grasp and slumped out of his own accord onto the edge of the bed. It squeaked in protest but she didn't hear it. Though she was suddenly aware that the area around her was now totally empty.

She looked at him and figured she knew him well enough to be able to believe he was feeling just as alone. She should be able to believe that after all this time. And for all this want of someone to help her, he needed it more.

She'd write him a note is what she'd do. She turned around quickly, and found it was easier to not look at him.

It wasn't because she was ashamed. She would come back. And yet as she thought it she knew that she would run away again. _Again._

There would be a desk in the corner, or some sort of table. Long strides towards it. Some sort of pad of paper. She ran her fingers over the wooden top and grasped hold of the cardboard backing that usually held it. And some sort of pen. There was one right next to it, albeit a chewed cap. She would assume it was the last occupant and not a rat.

It felt better to have a task. And the silly thing about the mind is that as soon as there is repetition it feels safe. And she knew it was silly, but there being a pad for paper, a pen, and a wooden desk in the corner made the whole room feel safer. And her being about to write a note on this piece of cardboard with this pen outside where it was brighter just made everything better for a moment.

Because it was nearing morning, and the sun rose every morning, and there was repetition in that. It had risen every morning. It would rise today and it would prove that the world was moving _on_.

So that she wouldn't be stuck in a dark room that made her skin light, and her eyes wide and her ears large to catch every second of that damn infernal screaming silence.

And her hand was on the doorknob, she had been so close to walking out and seeing the sunrise that must have been there, and being able to bottle up everything and possibly never looking back, but she had heard it, not even more than a whisper.

If it hadn't been so damn _dark _and so damn _silent_ her ears wouldn't have caught it and she would have been able to leave.

"Thank you Rins."

And the pen had hit the ground, and the pad had followed soon after. She had hit the door in protest, because he was just supposed to let her _go_, but she couldn't hear that.

She couldn't hear it because she was sobbing _sobbing again_ into his shoulder, and her arms were tight around his neck, maybe choking, but not as much as her choked words and breath. She looked up at him once and if had been his tear or one of hers she didn't know but she wiped it away. He didn't flinch when she touched him this time and he didn't move away when she kept her hand on his cheek, and unmoving he let her hand take off the blood.

"Train."

He didn't look at her, but he moved one hand to place on top of hers. "I'm sorry, Rins."

She took her hand away to fiercely grab the fronts of his jacket and bury her head in the crook of his neck. _You don't fucking have to be_ she wanted to say, but choked. "I'll be back later, I promise."

"I might not be here later."

She picked her head up and went limp when his eyes caught hers. "Train…" He looked away. "Train, I don't know what I'm going to do if you're not here when I come back." She choked. "I-I'll kill you, Train."

He gave her a quick glance before standing up, and pulled her along with him. With the other hand he opened the door and led her out. His movements were slow and meticulous, yet everything happened in a swirl of blurriness through her muddled state of mind.

By the time her mind had caught up with her feet he had already given her one last glance and shut the door behind her.

The ground wasn't black anymore, but it hadn't morphed into the pinkish hue that comes with sunrise. And the road veered very obviously to the left, telling her to go home. Janus would have drunken himself to sleep long before... Which gave her ample means to tweak the story so he would never know she had even left.

She dried her face with the back of her hand, but held back the reprimand towards herself that usually followed tears, she'd decided Sven deserved at least that. Setting off down the street, she started at a fast walk, but not a slow jog, and didn't know quite what to think about her wishing he had given her a peck on the cheek, while smiling crookedly at her, before she had left.

* * *

He beckoned them using the smallest movement of his hands and led them behind the counter and into a back room.

The dust clogged her nostrils immediately, and although trying her best to withhold it, she let out a high-pitched, childish sneeze. Her hands covered her nose, and her big eyes stared upwards at the assassin who had turned to look at her. The wrinkles around his eyes and curve of his mouth almost betrayed his amusement.

Looking away from him Eve took the room in at a glance. A small mattress lying in the corner was the only ornament. The four walls, ceiling, and floor each were made of cold concrete, and stacked in the corner was what she could only assume were kegs of beer.

Here the smell of stale beer mixed with the stench of unseen dead insects, and the copper-sweet smell of blood. Although it could of just been the concrete.

Tiayou closed the wooden door behind them, pushed up her glasses, and fixed Ruguto with a steady gaze. "This seems as good a time as any to explain to me what is going on."

"To us." Eve interjected, lifting her chin.

He finally showed emotion through exhaustion by lifting a hand to rub his temples. "I'm still doubting the reason why I felt the need to save you, instead of capture you. But--" He sighed again, but the expectant eyes of the two woman in the room forced him on. "It was Chronos. I was ordered by the first Time Guardian to find the girl."

Here he gestured to Eve, then furrowed his brow. "You fought the dinosaur." It wasn't a question as much as it was a statement.

"Yes."

It wasn't respect that had him nodding his head, but something akin to what he felt in regard of the Black Cat.

"She expects the Black Cat to follow you. I don't know the reason for it. But with the way she threatened me it can't be good."

"And that's the reason you saved us?" Tiayou questioned. "Doesn't seem likely."

"No." He said gruffly, then turned his back on them. Facing the furthest wall he spoke, "I swore to not allow anybody to capture me until I was stronger. That later became an oath to not waste my time as an assassin. I will get better. I have gotten better." He paused a moment to clench and unclench his fists. "I will face him again one day. And we will be equals." He turned to look at them now, studying them. "And for some reason I know that if I give the both of you over that will never happen. Or it won't happen as it should happen."

He parted them and walked towards the door. From here he spoke with conviction and finality. "I will not give up my last chance at a worthwhile moment in this life." He stepped forward.

"Wait." Eve morphed her arm into a solid cement block, slowing his departure. She narrowed her eyes. "Where are you going?"

His eyes shifted from the cement in front of him to her face. Studied them. "I'm going to go find the Black Cat."

"Then why not take us with you? If Chronos is after all of us we might as well stick together."

"We'll be moving too slow."

"You think I move slow?" Her arm shimmered as it shifted into a huge wing, then back to cement.

"No. Not you."

_Tiayou. _"Someone could just carry her."

"Can you carry her?" It was rhetoric.

"How can we trust you?"

The doctor grabbed Eve's shoulder and pulled her back. "We can't do anything right now." She sounded calm. As if she had a plan. So she pulled back her other arm, so he could pass through the door.

"We'll try and make a meeting place. You can see him in the morning if he wants to take you with him. I personally think you'll be here for awhile, until after this business with Chronos is over with."

The image of the Black Cat shooting Madame Freesia's guards' bullets in mid-air flashed through his mind. "He seems like someone who would protect people, even needlessly." He added the last part for the young bio-weapon.

Tiayou fixed him with a critical glare. "Why can't we just call him?"

Ruguto's eyes widened and he turned swiftly. "That reminds me." He held out a hand. "They most likely have your phones tapped. And they could realize any second I'm not going to hand you over. If they start tracking you I have nowhere else to take you."

The woman continued to examine his face, but then reached into her front pocket and pulled out a phone. She glanced at the young girl who proceeded to hand it over.

He crushed them in his fist.

Then he finally walked out the door.

Eve ignored the door as it swung closed and instead watched the pieces of the phone pile up into a stack of rubble. If she cared enough to think about it she would have found it ironic that the phone Sven gave her the day they met Ruguto Won was destroyed the day they met again.

"You have a plan?" Eve said as she got down on her knees to look through a crack in the door. Ruguto was talking with the man behind the counter again.

"Yes, dear." She couldn't see either of their faces.

"Is it one that's going to get us out of here somehow?" They were speaking quietly. But it seemed their fingers were moving in synch with their words.

"Not really." It looked like some miniature sign language.

"We have to get out of here!" She wouldn't have noticed it if she hadn't been at that angle.

"It's not safe right now. We have to--" The informant glanced around nervously.

"I want to know what's going on!" Their fingers were still moving quickly.

"We have to wait for the opportune moment." Ruguto started to walk away.

"There isn't going to be an opportune moment. We have to take action." She stood up to watch him leave.

"Let's take action in the morning." The gray cloaked figure walked out after him.

"What if they're after Sven too?" She wouldn't have taken the man from the corner leaving as anything if it hadn't sent another chill down her spine.

"Sven can take care of himself."

Only the most naïve of children truly believe it.

Even the greatest of father's cannot take care of themselves.

Unfortunately, nobody here knew the irony in this solace. Sven was dead. Had _been_ dead. Nobody knew.

It was silent as she weighed the circumstances in her head. _Who was that_? "I'm still going."

"Eve, don't--"

"I'm sorry, mother."

She scrunched her eyes shut. Curled herself into a ball. All her willpower. It would take all of her willpower. She could feel the hairs begin to grow. Her tailbone extending. Bones appearing and disappearing. When she suddenly fell forward and opened her eyes, the light hit them twice because of the mirrored surface. She could see every dead insect that had been invisible to her before.

She looked up at Tiayou. She was so much higher in the air now. She flicked her tail. A white Persian cat flicked its tail. She hadn't expected it to work.

She couldn't keep the form for long. She shoved her body against the not-fully-closed door to provide an opening. With one last glance at the good doctor, who had bent down to rest her hand on her head, she slipped out.

The smells were different now. She didn't just smell stale beer and smoke. There was sweat. And fear. And suspicion and the fine powder of old money.

But still prevalent in the air was a trail of chalk dust. And the only person who could need chalk dust would be a skilled hand-combantant.

She lowered her nose to the ground and accidentally stuck it into, what was now, a giant dustbunny that had blown out of the back room.

She shook her head to withhold it but couldn't help but let out a sneeze.

* * *

She was too tired to climb back through the window and walked right up to her front door…to find it locked.

After praising her luck she walked around her apartment and climbed in through the window. She opened the locked bathroom door and peeked around it.

Nobody. Same dark room as she had left it. Train's jackets still lying there seeping in its own liquid. She nudged it with her foot. _Tad bit drier_. Her broken necklace was still on the floor. She waited for the pang of sorrow, which only resulted in her standing in an awkward position for a few minutes and feeling like a complete idiot.

She felt around with her hands and after finally finding most of the pieces scooped them up and placed them on the nearest surface. She attributed the Case of the Missing Sorrow to the amount of dynamic emotions she had been forced into the whole night and welcomed it as a needed reprieve.

Finally building up the courage to cautiously open the door to room, she was met with her very own silent hallway and full view of her locked door at the end of it. Knowing he was still here she paused halfway down the corridor to listen for his breathing, and found it in the sitting area where he'd left the alcohol.

On closer inspection she found more than half of the bottle missing, a chipped wineglass on the carpet beneath her feet, and a snoring and rumpled boyfriend. He didn't look nearly as cute drunk and knocked out.

But he did look a bit cold. It had been a cold night. She thought about giving him a blanket but decided the alcohol would keep him warm enough. He knew where the blankets were; he could have gotten them himself since he had the time to barge into her home and take over her couch.

She also thought about what he would have thought about her seeing Train right after he had blown up in her face about it. He thought Train was dangerous, and a long time ago Train had told her Chronos was dangerous. She was stuck in the middle and hated it. Not strongly disliked it. But hated it. With the passion of a million billion burning suns.

She was _going _to go check on Train tomorrow, whether Janus liked it or now. She just wished he didn't have to 'like it or not'. He'd be so far hung over tomorrow that he probably wouldn't remember many of the details of their 'normal' time together. And if she dropped a few hints about Train and the others, she could see how far she could stretch Chronos and their firm ownership over everyone underneath them.

If she was any part of the Rinslet Walker that found what she wanted and took it, she could at least try and get some of her _freedom_ back.

She busied herself with attempting to re-cork the bottle and kicking the shards underneath the couch. Everything else she left in a jumbled heap in the corner, if Janus wanted it when he left, he could take it then. She wasn't going to lie and say she wasn't still a bit bitter about the whole argument, but knew there was nothing she could do about it.

But it wasn't like she didn't have _any_ freedom. She was over exaggerating everything and just throwing herself her own idiotic pity-party. She was _being completely silly and pathetic. _She reached her bedroom door again and turned to stare back down the corridor from where she had come and from where she could still hear the ragged breathing.

But she wasn't going to lie and say she wouldn't enjoy banging a lot of things together in the morning.

* * *

There was a purpose to Ruguto Won's early morning walk. Gait. Head down, hands shoved in pockets, and long legs in a long stride down a street that was almost unremarkable. For one thing it looked normal. For another it got him where he was going quick enough. But lastly the unremarkable street led straight to what he knew was a hideout of the Black Cat's. And if the shape-shifter was in town then he could only be there.

Curly hair bounced in a non-existent wind and dark brown eyes traveled quickly over various cracks on the sidewalk. All of which he avoided stepping on. There wasn't a reason, the mind just liked to play games.

He also didn't find it reasonable to believe in luck. But right now he was wishing for all the luck in the world. It was one thing to be a top assassin and running from the feds, in fact it was nothing. But running from a secret organization which hired the Black Cat, and had other people of theirs flitting around, was something he never had planned to run from.

Ruguto Won planned a lot of things. It was a game to him. To plan the killing of his target. To plan the route with which he would get to the safe-house. But at the moment he was flying by the seat of his pants, and that was more than unnerving.

There was another lastly about his pace. And there was another reason he was unnerved. Every once and awhile his footfalls echoed. It would usually mean nothing. But to someone who had trained himself to the point of nothing and had felt the tip of a specialized orihalcon sword at his throat, he knew the details of sneaking and the meaning of fright. It was his training that told him that the moment he changed his pace to the speed he knew he was capable of, he would become the catalyst that set off an encounter he was unwilling to deal with.

He finally arrived at the end of the driveway and knew he had a split second to decide whether to enter the house or keep walking for the sake of safety. Unfortunately, he knew his only chance of figuring this out was to find the Black Cat, and right now the only chance of finding him was going into that house.

He took two powerful strides and leapt through a firont window. After landing, he looked around and placed it as a kitchen. A kitchen is usually thought of as a place of healing. A place where a family can gather around food or the stove and form silly jokes and memories. Unfortunately, after you thought of the knives that were probably strategically hidden around the room, the well-lit area suddenly took on a sinister quality.

"Black Cat!" he yelled it out, breaking the silence. If he was there he would answer. He would answer.

But his ears met with nothing. His nose met with nothing but the familiar growing-stale smell of drying blood. But his eyes did witness something different.

A shadow.

A big one. He smelled like the Bandit's Bar, which was strange because he would have _known_ if someone had followed him from _there_.

He turned on his heel slowly. He expected to meet the eyes of a killer. Or meet the end of a gun, maybe an orihalcon one; he expected to be erased.

What he didn't expect was a large hand. Slightly wrinkled. Calloused. Utterly unexpected: a handshake.

With the towering figure's other hand, he pushed back the hood of his gray cloak. They were killer's eyes. Cold. But the crow's feet around it and the half-smile took away from them. Evened them out.

"Who exactly are you?"

"I am Belze Rochefort, Number Two of the Chronos Time Guardians." He smiled again and stretched his arm out further.

It was weird since he said it so normally. "It's quite a title."

He shrugged. "You get used to it."

The Number's hand was still hanging in the air. And for the sake of ending awkwardness, Ruguto finally made up his mind to shake it. He didn't know what for though.

Ruguto stared at the man and the slightly upturned corner of his mouth, and after half a minute decided that he was completely confused.

One of them cleared their throat. So Ruguto spoke.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

Maybe it was some sort of psychological tactic.

"It's quite a title as well."

A pause. Now slowly: "Thank…you." Rochefort really didn't seem to find this as strange as he did.

"I'm here to talk to you about the nano-machine girl."

It wasn't a question so he didn't answer.

"Why don't we take a walk? It's such a nice morning." He turned his back and headed for the door. _Left himself wide open_. His smile had been amiable, but there had been a haunting sense of power behind his slow movements. Ruguto finally decided that the smartest action would be not attacking him. Considering what their leader had almost done to him.

Here the morning was steel gray. It was like living in an old movie; everything was black and white.

"You seem like a nice guy."

"Not quite." Ruguto gave him a sidelong glance. The Time Guardian's eyes were on the sky.

"Arguably honorable."

"Arguably." This was getting awkward fast.

The man let out a chuckle. "At least you sort of agreed. I was about to begin throwing out adjectives."

Ruguto's eyes drifted back to the cracks on the path and he found himself subconsciously avoiding them again.

"How's life?" It was abrupt, and completely unexpected. The startled expression on the assassin-for-hire's face made him look wide-eyed and boyish.

"Life?"

"Yes, how's life."

Three steps. He didn't answer. Three more.

"Unfortunately, life hasn't been so great for me recently. Higher-ups and all that," he turned to look at Ruguto, three beats. "That's where you're supposed to say 'well, there's nothing we can do about it.'"

_Too bad I can do something about it. I can kill them. That's why I work alone._ One step.

"There's a very intricate dilemma I'm involved in. A lot of different threads that need to be weaved together."

"That's a little bit cliché sounding, isn't it?"

Rochefort raised an eyebrow. "Suddenly feeling talkative?"

Three steps. "No." One more.

"The thing about this dilemma is that it could be very violent. Or relatively peaceful. The Leader I think is leaning towards peaceful. But there are many things moving against her, which is why I think she used you."

He barely moved his lips, "She didn't seem very peaceful."

"She's a great person. She's just," he paused to let out a breath through his nose, "confused a bit."

They turned right. It took Ruguto a moment to realize they were taking the exact same path he'd taken to get to the house.

"Now if we were to have the young friend of Train Heartnet in our custody…" _His words rob the Hybla bees; leave them honeyless._

"You mean the bioweapon, and you mean to use her as a hostage." _And his leave them stingless._

"When you word it like that it has such a bad connotation."

"It means the same thing."

"I suppose." Steps. A number of them. The sun was in their faces now. "You can't deny that it would prevent him from attacking anyone. Who wants more complications anyways? Things should be decided peacefully, like this. Like how we've decided giving the girl to me is the safest thing to do."

"I haven't decided anything."

When he turned to look at him the half smile twinkled onto his cheeks. And he wasn't sure if his crow's feet were wrinkles or dimples. But this time they didn't take away from the coldness of his eyes. "Oh, yes you have."

* * *

**(1) The Han Dynasty. It was one of the great Chinese dynasties. It was established by a slave rebellion.**

**Can blood go stale? Hah.**

**Wow that was a long editing-process. :Wipes sweat from brow: **

**Some things I wanted to say while I was reading the thing: Firstly, I can't believe I wrote 'tea for the soul' it makes me giggle every time I read it. And something else that went on in that section...I have to gloat I can't help it..I love that line. 'And then his eyes flicked towards her, wondering how many borders he had crossed, and if he had ruined himself by doing so. And she held those eyes, for the second that she could, marveling at the human beneath her soldiers.' I read it and was like .wow. awesome. . Hmm. And if you're wondering why I interrupted the Shaolee/Kranz conversation three times..its because I didn't like it that much and it sounded really blaze. It was a lot like...'this has to happen so now I'm writing it'. Besides that, I'd written a whole bunch of Chronos character scenes and it was getting GAHish. No inspiration. Finally, I think I secretly like Eve. I could only write 'I eat tiny men like you for breakfast' for her and actually like it.**

**If anybody watches American Idol, Bon Jovi is awesome, and House that comes on after it rocks my socks off. Love House. Love satirist's. **

**Magno multum thanks to CrypticAngel for beta-ing and making me write this. And sidenote... update Cloudy PLEASE. **

**

* * *

**

Love you all. Even if there's only 2 of you.

* * *

REVIEW. OR EVE WILL DRINK YOUR SOUL LIKE TEA FOR BREAKFAST.


	5. Faith in Fading Stars

Disclaimer: It was a secret diary. As if there were any other kind. What was it about? Sex. Sexual Encounters. Boys, girls, and certain vibrating technology.

Forgot where it's from but it's hilarious.

There's a sparknotes at the end of this if you get bored halfway through...

"Black Cat" is far from my grasp.

* * *

_Le scintillement de scintillement peu tiennent le premier rôle, _

_Comment je me demande ce que vous êtes, _

_Vers le haut de au-dessus du monde tellement haut, _

_Comme un diamant dans le ciel, _

_Scintillement de scintillement petit tiennent le premier rôle, _

_Comment je me demande ce que vous êtes !

* * *

_

_To test his loyalty._

He walked down the hallway lazily, head cast down for the gloom to cover thoroughly. His fingers slithered from beneath his sash like worms to brush over the walls on either side, tainting the old wood or marble with the fine powder of dead skin and his black presence.

Just before the end of the corridor he turned sharply left, pushing a cedar door in swiftly to reveal a dark room lit only by the light from the ceiling behind him. He shut the door behind him by grazing his sash against its surface, seemingly using more his mind than his hand.

He slid recently bare feet across bamboo matting to a low table along the right wall, lighting each of the candles that rested there with a long stemmed match. With an air of finality he touched the flame to the incense stick which rested against its designated stand, and watched as the smoke curled sinuously toward the shadowed ceiling while spreading its pungent odor of soot and jasmine. For a moment he romanticized that he was a statue; adorning the meditation room with his superior focus and intelligence.

_Whose loyalty?_

If everything went as planned the idea would soon cease to be so fantastical. He wondered if when he became leader they would be able to carve the grace of his weapon of choice into marble.

As the Orihalcon fabric billowed to the floor the tallest candles sent tendrils of light across it, almost forcing the eye to believe melting rubies were strewn across its surface.

He allowed himself to melt into the cushion beneath him, crossing his legs as a monk would and pressing the tips of his fingers together as he rested his hands over his shins.

He left his head down for the gloom to cover thoroughly.

And so he could think.

_Your eyes were so suspicious alongside those words, Belze_.

:_**Flashback**_:

His conversation with Kranz Maduke still running through his head, not twenty minutes after, he had run into II in a nearby hallway. (Actually, Belze had seemed to be heading for the backdoors and he had wondered where he was going.)

"Oh! Hello, sir."

Belze Rochefort turned slowly to face him. For a brief moment Shaolee caught his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

"Ah, Shaolee. I wanted to talk to you." He straightened his broad shoulders and brought his chin up. "Under no circumstances are you to _ever_ walk in on the Leader's meetings. I'm assuming you wanted a dramatic entrance." His piercing eyes didn't stray from his face, and it pushed Shaolee to think back to the times when he was verdant and he couldn't hold the older man's gaze. "The Time Guardian's weren't established for dramatic entrances."

Shaolee continued to hold his stare but backed off slightly by vaguely inclining his head. "Of course, sir, but I felt it was important."

He sighed and smiled gruffly. "The Time Guardians weren't meant for reprimands either. And besides," he had let his gaze drift away but Belze snapped it back to Shaolee's face, "I trust you."

Only confused for a moment, Shaolee hid his smirk behind his hair. Since he trusted him so much…he wouldn't mind telling him where he was going. _I don't want Sephiria's outdated plans getting in the way as it is._ "So…" The younger man made a show of looking around, "where exactly are you going anyway?"

Maybe his eyes betrayed him because Belze narrowed his own.

"I'm going to get someone whom Sephiria wants."

The raven-haired man raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "A prisoner? Why?" Who could she possibly--

"She says it will bring the Black Cat to us."

He let out an unbidden bark of laughter. "And what does she plan on doing then?" His own idea was much better. Suicide. It was much more…dramatic.

"I'm sure she knows what she's doing. Our leader is wise, strong, and _honorable._ She doesn't need to constantly tell us what she's doing."

His eyes had been so sharp and disapproving.

That might have been what shook him to the core. Belze had _always_ believed him, and been on his side of things…but he'd have to think about that later.

"But I know one of the reasons why."

With the tall man's back turned, he could see how absolutely rigid with tension it was. The blonde turned one cold, blue eye on him. It felt like Belze was pushing a box over his head, trying to force him back into his place.

"To test his loyalty."

:_End_:

The candles were at half mast and the incense was starting to smell more like burning wood.

Their conversations had always been close to normalcy, which was a hard thing to come by in Chronos. And as much as he deemed it a weakness, he considered him something. Whether it was a friend, mentor, or ally he didn't know because he'd never bothered to name it.

He'd believed that when he rose to power Belze would be his right-hand man. He was perfect for the position as it was. He had just proven he could keep secrets. And he demanded attention. But most of all Shaolee wanted someone loyal. Someone he could trust.

Belze had always said he trusted him, and now suddenly he had bite behind those words.

He stood to breath out the candles. He decided he'd go slowly and blew them out in turn, giving every one the same importance and allowing his mouth to hang over each of the wicks.

There was no point in being irrational or angry over it, even if he was a bit stricken. Couldn't Belze realize that his loyalty was misplaced? That continuing to follow a dying star was a death wish in itself?

He let out his tension by gritting his teeth, and stood stock still until his jaw was sore and he had relaxed enough to open his mind again. It was the reason he'd come to the meditation room in the first place.

As soon as he forced the Black Cat's death, Belze would trust his loyalty. Belze would follow him when the time came.

But, of course, he'd want others below him to respect him as well. So in the meantime he'd insure that.

By testing Kranz's loyalty.

* * *

She'd abandoned the morph early on, and had still been panting for breath for at least twenty minutes. It had taken all of her skill as a sweeper and then some to follow them on the rooftops. It was something she'd rarely practiced. The only time she had was when she tried tailing Train, and he _always_ slipped away to suddenly appear in front of her and laugh in her face. But the rivalry had unbiddenly trained her for this, and she was almost positive that the big guy in the gray cloak didn't know she was there.

She found herself quietly rooting for Ruguto Won when she noticed him constantly trying to slip away, she figured she would help him if he was attacked, because at the moment he had chosen to help them, and she couldn't stomach watching somebody be hurt. At the same time she knew he was something of a martial arts master, so he'd be able to take care of himself.

Her feet were sore from all the traveling she'd been doing lately, and her eyelids were getting heavy; she lost the two for a minute as the weariness took over and soon after almost stumbled off the dewy shingles. It sent adrenaline rushing through her and she cursed her carelessness and the fact she had lost the two she had set out to follow.

She quickly looked around in the gray of morning, everything looked like a back-and-white picture come to life…a familiar black and white picture.

She frowned in thought, everything looked different from a bird's eye view.

It was another minute and rooftop later before she realized she was in the neighborhood of one of their safe houses.

She snuck around to the never-watered backyard and looked over the fence just in time to catch the two walking down the street. She'd obviously missed something important.

It was almost pure luck or fate that must've brought Won to their front door, but she might as well take it in stride. Sven and Train would be inside, surprised to see her she'd bet, and she'd be the one to inform _them_ for once. It wouldn't be good information though. Chronos coming after them for whatever reason couldn't be a good thing.

Her feet hit glass and she looked up. A busted window was directly above her head with jagged pieces rimming the edge. The absurdity of it kept her eyes glued to it and with hesitant wings she pulled herself up and through.

The smell brought tears to her eyes. It was a stench that came to her sometimes in dreams, something that every time she accidentally remembered it reminded her why she was running across the country sweeping. To atone for what she had done.

It was less shock than it was fear. And it was less fear than it was painful.

It wasn't with her eyes that she saw the body and it wasn't with her fingers that she pulled back the jacket. She felt numb. And detached. Like she was watching herself from the outside. The fog of her breath in the cold early morning forming her new gossamer spirit.

She felt the way she had felt before. Before she had met him. Alone. There was nothing to say because there was nobody to listen now.

If she wept it was silent. She was silent. In that moment she memorized forever the stubble on his chin and his lankiness with the hint of malnourishment and a thousand other imperfections that made him into the best father figure she could ever have had.

She didn't know how much time had passed, or if it was the weariness that blacked her out. Or the loss. But when the blanket of sleep finally fell over her she was thankful for it.

* * *

Their walk had taken twenty minutes longer than he had anticipated, and by now the sun had risen over the horizon and was soaking up the thin layer of water that lay over everything.

At the guild it didn't become surprisingly silent as it had when he'd brought in the two Chronos was after. He was glad for it because he'd never liked the attention.

Another difference was that this time his informant didn't look at him questioningly or angrily, but shrank back as he noticed the Time Guardian in the gray cloak. Eyes wide with fear he mouthed 'gato negro'.

As they slipped into the back room Ruguto noticed the too-curious-for-his-own-good man gripping a dagger so tightly that he must have been sending searing splinters through his palm.

They shut the large door firmly behind them and he saw large blue eyes widen in shock.

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Belze Rochefort, Number II of the Time Guardians." He extended his hand as he had with him and gave her the same smile.

"That takes care of 'who are you'." The blonde woman stood straight and crossed her arms, focusing her scientist's gaze at Ruguto. "You betrayed us."

He hung his head--if he could have paused time and tried to figure out why it would have taken beyond hours--and mumbled something incoherently.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Don, his informant, peering through the knee-high hole in the door. He winced internally. It was the reason he was his informant though.

"Doctor," Rochefort looked around the room. "Where has the young sweeper gone?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Why? What are you going to do with her?"

"Ma'am," He moved a step closer. "I promise neither of you will come to any harm."

"Well she isn't here." Her jaw was set and she switched her glare between the two of them. "Obviously."

"Well how could she have gotten out?" Ruguto looked around the room for any small openings. Don's sharp eyes couldn't have missed her, could they?

"Hmm." Belze paused and tapped his chin. Then, in movements so swift Ruguto had to practically dive to get out of the way, the tall man whipped around, swung open the door, and pulled the bartender over his head and flat onto the floor between them.

Then he interrogated him as if he were asking about the weather.

"Did you happen to see where she went?"

The poor guy shook his head dumbly and stuttered, "Time Guardian?"

"We guard time." He smiled amiably and almost chuckled, but kept his boot-clad foot near the Don's head.

The scrawny Mexican looked at him with wide eyes.

"For Chronos." Tearju spat out.

Now he nodded slowly.

Ruguto figured he might as well try talking to him--it might calm him down a bit. "Did you see anything strange, Don?"

"No, señor. The door was never open more than a crack, I swear it."

"Alright." Belze sighed while giving him a pat on the head. "Go sit in the corner."

The number passed a weary hand over his face. "Ma'am, would you please come with me." He put his hand on her arm as if to lead her.

"No!" She screamed, yanking her arm away. Goosebumps covered her from head to toe, but that was her only sign of fear.

The genteelly man reached out and opened his mouth as if to drop more of his will-clouding words, but was shocked into standing still when the quiet doctor lashed out at him with long nails that scraped across the bridge of his nose.

She backed up, shoulders stiff in preparation for a fight and her lips set in a grim line. As the Time Guardian took another step forward she brought her arms up defensively, only to have him capture her wrists between his large fingers and deliver a knock-out blow to the back of her head.

As she slumped to the floor Ruguto looked sadly at the long hair that fell to obscure her face.

Belze sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well that didn't go as well as I was hoping…"

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to hand over innocent people."

"You shouldn't have been hoping in the first place. Sometimes people like us just have to do what we're told…there is no gray area."

He walked slowly over to the Don who sat in the corner absolutely silent, as if hoping that if he forgot to breathe for a long enough time that everyone would forget about him. He crouched so he could place a hand on the terrified man's shoulder. "I hope you understand this is all business."

Belze's other hand reached up to grab the pale man's chin and with the flexing of his muscles abruptly yanked the man's jaw and shoulder in opposite directions, snapping the spine at least three different times.

Ruguto clenched his jaw shut to keep it from going slack with shock. The man who caused it paced calmly over to the slouched over Dr. Tearju and pulled her delicately into his arms as if she were a bride. Her head and an arm lolled freely away from the support of his arms and out of respect Ruguto soon found himself setting her hand atop her stomach. She could at least have her dignity as a prisoner.

"I was supposed to knock you out and take you with me."

He paused to mull it over and took a step back. "Supposed?"

The killer smiled that smile that made him look for all the world like his greatest friend-- "You're lucky I like you." --even if he didn't have to look further than his eyes to realize he was his greatest horror.

Rochefort moved towards the door and, while balancing the woman with ease, reached for the handle. "Y'know…there still is a way for you to find the Black Cat."

_Clicking my heels together?_

"A friend of his might know where he is. We have somebody keeping track of her."

How _many _people were Chronos after? "Her?"

"The master thief. You should know her. Short hair, shorter skirt." He cleared his throat. "You might try having a chat with her."

The only person he could possibly think of was the woman from the bridge. She had acted like she knew the Black Cat, and she fit the description. He didn't know about 'master', but somewhere in the back of his mind he had known she was Ms. Walker.

If she was in this city, then how was he going to find her?

"Wait."

The tall blonde had already maneuvered the door open, and the glow from the butts of cigarettes gave a silver lining to the two figures' silhouettes.

"Whose side are you on?"

He offered a grim smile. "Are there really sides?" His eyes softened, suddenly not as cold but still as complicated. "It all seems gray to me."

* * *

When she woke he was still knocked out on the couch, hair mussed and snoring softly. After a glance at the clock to figure out the time--it was almost past noon--she headed to the kitchen for coffee.

After adding water to the insta-brand she headed back to the front room to see if he was awake. His breathing remained steady so she tried placing the cup underneath his nose; the smell didn't wake him up.

She sighed and sat down on the table in front of him. She wanted to know what was going on. Sven…dead? It still hadn't hit her yet. Did people like them give funerals? Was it even a funeral if only a handful of people showed up? And what about _who_ killed him? With the way Train was talking she had thought _he _had killed Sven for a second. And _why_? Couldn't he foresee these things? There was no way it could've been a friend of someone they'd sweeped recently, could it? And _what _was that one Chronos guy doing in town that made Train kill him? _Kill _him. His eyes still hadn't left her. It still hurt.

She stood up and drained her cup in one gulp. She felt the taste buds raise on her tongue as they were burnt and sucked in air quickly to cool off her scorched cheeks. She cursed herself and the bitter taste the grains left in her mouth.

Had Baldor been the one to murder him? It didn't make any _fucking_ sense. For one: why? It was completely random. There hadn't been a hint of it; could he have been following them while they were walking to the pizza joint? If they had gone with Sven would this still have happened? If her and Train hadn't been arguing about pathetic toppings in the first place he wouldn't have left.

Guilt tingled in the pit of her stomach, and she slammed the mug into the sink. From the other room she heard her _dearest_ groan at the loud sound.

Her conscience was masked over by her anger at the world and she yelled across the distance between them. "Do you want an Advil?!"

She even winced at how loud her voice was and peeked around the corner to see him holding his head between his hands. "Rins?" He whispered and peered up at her with eyes squinted in pain. She continued staring and he finally wobbled into a standing position, and with a hand on his head made his way towards her.

She combed her fingers through her lavender hair as she waited for him to lean his shoulder against the wall for support. "Be _quiet_," he hissed. "Please."

"Of course." She answered then swung open the medicine cabinet. Empty pill bottles and assortments of other die-hard supplies cascaded down the shelves and crashed onto her countertops.

The charmer whimpered and doubled over as white lights exploded into his vision. She felt the sadist side of her fade slightly as he spoke. "That was harsh, baby."

"Well I'm just a slight bit angry at you."

"Can't we talk about this?"

She fixed him with a steely gaze to let him know he wasn't off the hook then whipped around and filled a cup with water. Shoving it into his hand she led him back to the couch.

She waited until he was done and had stopped periodically moaning before taking the glass from his hand. While she was putting it into the sink he must've ran a comb through his hair because when she came back out he was standing in the open doorway, and, besides his bleary eyes, was classic Janus.

"Is this about your necklace or whatever, hun?"

She crossed her arms and he waved a hand dismissively.

"C'mon, Rinsy, it ain't that bad." She unfolded her arms but didn't budge otherwise. He exhaled through his nose but opened his arms to her. "Really sorry about that, I shouldn't have gotten so angry. But," He grinned while grabbing her shirt and pulling her to him, "it really doesn't matter because you look just as beautiful without it."

He slowly dipped his head and kissed her seductively on her collar bone. Then he turned and headed down the floors of stairs leading to the ground.

As she watched his retreating figure it started out bitter but ended softly, and to herself. "Oh, no, don't feel bad about it. It was a piece of trash. (She left out the 'like you').

She wiped a wasted tear out of her eye as she stepped outside. She didn't know if it was for Sven, Train, or herself.

"Where are you going?"

"We're going to get me a drink to help out with this hangover. Then wherever you want."

She wondered where Sven's body was. How they should break it to Eve. If Train had waited for her.

Then she shut the door behind her and followed the steps down.

* * *

On his way to talk to Kranz the second in command had returned carrying a blond woman draped between his arms. He had done his best to get a look at the face of the prisoner whom Sephiria had wanted, but had failed miserably as Belze's cold, blue eyes had surrounded him and kept him silent.

Now he headed to the one place he knew the blind--in all senses of the word--man would be mourning for his friend. Which, of course, for them meant the easiest place to blow off steam and build up the need for revenge.

What he was counting on was that Kranz had overheard more of what the purpose of this prisoner was, or why Belze needed to 'trust' her, or possibly how he could use this new variable against the Black Cat.

When he walked into the room he expected to see Kranz throwing around his daggers like some freak circus performance, and did indeed find him with an Orihalcon blade in each hand, but standing with head bowed over a small porcelain vase.

"A beautiful crematory, wouldn't you say, Kranz? The craftsmanship is impeccable. Our Leader spared nothing for your friend's resting place."

The goggled man scowled, and did not turn his head to face him. He did, however, go through a quick set of warm-up moves before replacing his daggers into their sheaths. The vase he left on the floor between them.

Shaolee smiled viciously. "I meant the shape and texture, of course." He watched Kranz closely for a reaction while walking to face the man. He just loved the individual and its corollaries, which explained his love for faces. Expressions relied so heavily on them.

It seemed unfitting, Kranz had first thought, for a man who had owned such a large presence to have come down to this little container. He had always thought they would end in large urns, and red ones. The color of war, and for the fire that had maimed and gifted him.

The structure was so small that he could easily have smashed it on the marble floor of the room with a misplaced foot. Baldor didn't belong underfoot. _He_ did not belong underfoot. Were they really so little in the vast span of Chronos?

It was embittering. Enough to make him want to give up the leader whom they had so diligently followed and whom had so easily given them up. Offer her up to Shaolee with all of his faces and all of his facades, so that he himself may be able to tear into the Black Cat for what he had reduced Baldor and him into. Powerfully embittering.

"I saw II carrying in a woman today, Kranz, a woman! Can you imagine why our Leader would need a civilian as a prisoner?"

Kranz frowned, confused. "No." He took a dagger back out and spun it between dexterous fingers. "When Baldor and I faced the girl, she was young, not a woman."

"Ah," Shaolee raised his eyebrows, his voice reverberating slightly in the bare, rectangular room. So Sephiria had been after.. "The biological weapon, you mean?"

Kranz added another dagger to his movements and his hands began to move in a blur as they balanced, twisted, and dipped. "I'm almost sure they were talking about the child. They mentioned a top assassin as the one who was to capture her." He paused. "Most likely so she wouldn't suspect we were behind it."

"Ah," So now he had a woman prisoner, the top assassin, and Train Heartnet's little friend. Assuming now that the woman had something to do with the girl, where was his Evey? "So Sephiria wanted the girl? Saddening that Belze himself couldn't capture her. Saddening also that the girl left a woman at the mercy of Chronos. I would think Train Heartnet had taught her better morals."

"Pathetic." Kranz swore while bending down to pick up the urn in one hand. Shaolee raised an unnoticed eyebrow. "Sephiria, Belze, and Heartnet. Pathetic, all of them." He walked to the door.

"Ah," Shaolee began, but was quickly cut off.

"That is the third time you've said 'ah' in the past minute."

"I have been making many discoveries."

"It's irritating."

"Wait." The blind man paused in the doorway, and Shaolee quickly began to paint with lies to placate his only ally. "We know more than most of the imbeciles walking around here, but are we really going to leave it at that? Sephiria will never be able to kill the Black Cat, and Baldor deserves retribution!" He paused to study Kranz who remained stoic. "Let's you and I take a stand, a step in the right direction. Together, we can cleanse Chronos." Kranz turned slightly and Shaolee knew he had him. "Tomorrow, get out of here. I'll meet you in the city."

"For what?"

"We're going after the girl."

* * *

It was getting into late afternoon now, and the two of them had settled into their usual routine of small talk and cheesy compliments. They had went to the liveliest part of downtown they could find--which also happened to be the oldest. From the window of the small diner/bar they sat in now she could see the fountain in the center of the city park. If you could really call it that. It was more of a fountain smack-dab in the middle of a convergence of four oldish streets. She knew that if you followed one of them far enough you would get to the path the four of them had been walking the other night.

"How do you like your drink? S'your favorite, right? "

She stared down at her extremely non-alcoholic and non-strawberry sweet tea. _Right, my favorite_. She drawled sarcastically for her own amusement.

"It's a little sweet." She finally said with a shrug. "Eve would have liked it better."

She saw his momentary frown but ignored it. At the moment she really didn't want to deal with his issue with the three sweepers.

"Janus…?"

He was busy getting the last few drops of whisky from his shot.

"Janus," she prompted again, thinking of Eve, "would you ever have kids?"

He coughed and rubbed his neck immediately as if the liquid had burned him. "Uhm? Have I had a conversation about marriage that I've completely forgotten about?"

"I wasn't talking about us." She said sharply, though in her usual tone. "I meant in general."

"Oh, well then." He grinned cheekily. She was sure he thought it was flirtatious. "I want fifty kids. We can name half of them Janus Jr. and the other half Rinsy Jr."

"Rinsy?"

"What's wrong with it? It's cute."

"Rinslet Walker is not cute."

"Fine. We'll name half Sweetcheeks. Sound better, sweetcheeks?"

Oh, bother. She grumbled and sat back. The ice in her glass was beginning to melt and now she was drinking sugary water. Far from delicious.

He laughed abrasively. "I'm sure they'll all be as perfect as you. Sweetcheeks is perfect, and it's far from cute."

The lavender-haired beauty snorted. "As if you're getting them out of my body."

He grinned and leaned in while whispering into her face. "I've gotten other things out of your body before."

"You're disgusting."

He laughed again, then kissed her on the side of her mouth.

Just as he was sitting back his phone started buzzing. He stared down at his jacket pocket for a few seconds while registering, then slowly took it out. "Seven."

She stared at him, ("Tonight?…Yes ma'am." he'd murmured) but a few seconds later he half-turned away from her, so she sighed her glass to the side and spent her time listening to the dull boom of something off in the distance. She didn't know they were fireworks until she saw the remnants of smoke.

He was nodding now. Agreeing with whatever the Chronos woman was talking about.

She snuck another look out of the window. It was getting darker, and the sky was a clear black. She imagined how nice the breeze must have been, but in the instant of that thought her mind flashed backwards into breath-stealing memories.

The freedom on the rooftop. The way Train's steady gaze had shook. Sven's mismatched eyes. Eve's quiet excitement. The hotel room, the feel of his cheek, and the way the tears had _hurt_.

It was sobering, stifling, and when she turned back to Janus he was perusing the waitresses behind the counter.

She hardly felt it.

He saw her looking and winked. She stood up.

"Hey, where are you going?" His eyebrows were raised confusedly, but he made no move to get up.

"You have work to get back to, right? I'm just getting a head start on home."

Then she walked out.

* * *

She blinked her eyes, mind hazy. The hallway was dim and the darkness oppressive, and as she sat up the weight of it seemed to push down on her back. She turned her eyes quickly when they met Sven's body and hurriedly stumbled up and to a phone.

She had already dialed half of the number before she realized there was no point in calling Train; he had already been there. His jacket was covering the body.

Suddenly she felt completely alone. Tearju was undoubtedly moved by Ruguto or that man, Train was gone, hopefully to find Sven's killer, and Sven…was dead. She knew she couldn't think of it in any other way, not even that he was gone forever. The stark reality of it gave her goose bumps and numbed her mind.

The blonde child clicked the receiver, then replaced the telephone against her ear as she called the police. A man answered asking for her area and emergency. She almost let out a sob, but her tongue curled back in her throat. She bent her head as a few tears tracked down her face.

"Hello?" The man's voice was smooth and low, ideal for a police operative. "This is the police, we will help you, what is your emergency?"

It was as if some exterior force had swollen her tongue and stolen her voice, leaving her soundless.

"Hello?"

A distant boom, and she set down the corded phone as she walked to the window. Again the sound echoed over the houses and trees, and for a moment it sounded like war. A series of crackles and a firework arched over the horizon of treetops and exploded into a glittering bouquet of light.

With only a glance at the still-connected phone to know the police would be able to trace the call, she passed kitchen, broken glass, and front door to the street, where she made her way toward the sound and light.

Sven had always said he'd take her to see the fireworks.

* * *

The master thief sat sullenly at the fountain. The fireworks that were bursting into existence above her glinted across the change littering its bottom. Momentary little suns.

She could hear snippets of conversation from other night-walkers as they gathered around her to stare at the sky.

"Is there some sort of festival today?"

"How should I know?"

Dark now. A good darkness for fireworks. The colors were brighter and the light shimmered longer.

"This one's my favorite. No, wait, that one."

She had gone back to the hotel room. She found it hard to believe she had expected anything. Of course he had already left.

She wondered if he had left a note. She had shut the door so quickly upon opening it.

"You know what? I really don't think there's a reason for these fireworks."

"How could there be no reason?"

Because if he wasn't there what was the freaking point of walking around that stupid room?

Dumb hotel.

"Maybe its just a gigantic waste of tax dollars."

She liked the ones that drooped. They looked a little like stars.

She twisted the lace of her black dress in her fingers. She felt fidgety. She felt like she needed to do something,

_To __**do**__ something_

but she didn't know _what._ Or where or how and it was frustrating and she hated it and she wished someone would help her and she hated herself for wishing it and she felt so _alone._

And at the same time so _detached_. As if someone had split her down the middle and her face was walking around and had left the rest of herself pushing up daisies.

She felt alone and detached in the middle of a crowd. She would've appreciated the irony but she knew the feeling well.

"I think Evacuation Day is in a few weeks. Maybe they're practicing."

"Aren't there computers for those type of things?"

There were two guys to her right, one was picking at his teeth and the other had his hands on his hips staring at the sky. Both looked as if they had been in the process of going somewhere when the completely random occurred.

She wished that she wasn't so weak and she wished she wasn't so childish and she wished she wasn't wishing but she really wanted Tearju not to have been so passive and she wanted Train not to have run off so that she couldn't find him and she wanted her fake stars to stop fading and she wanted him back.

She wanted her throat to stop closing and her tongue to stop swelling so she could start talking but he couldn't speak so she shouldn't and it felt like there wasn't anything to be said anyways. Nobody to listen anyways.

"Maybe it was an accident."

"That's a little disappointing."

There were two guys to her left, one was picking at his teeth and the other had his hands on his hips staring at the sky. Both looked as if they had been in the process of going somewhere when the completely random occurred.

Now she had faces to the voices.

"Oh look, the finale."

The booms and crackles came more frequently and the voices of everyone around her rose in a clamor to praise them.

It was strange, but amidst the noise, it wasn't the sound that stood out, but the silence. She was incredibly conscious of her tiny spot on the edge of the fountain. And she was strangely but undoubtedly being drawn towards the men to her left.

There was nothing special about them, and she probably would have stared at their faces for the rest of the show if she hadn't been sitting down.

But it was because of her angle and her proximity to them that she found herself looking between their legs.

And maybe it was the oddity of it that attracted her attention, but her eyes immediately found the small body and skinnier legs standing behind them.

And she was sure there were plenty of children littered amongst the crowd but this one was wearing a lacy black dress and one of her hands were caught in the fabric and she was sure if she looked closer her hair would be blonde and long and her face would be stoic and

_she shouldn't be here_.

"Eve?"

The clapping of the crowd rang in her ears as the last firework arched and spilled its contents amid the clouds.

_Rins?_

"Eve! It is you!" Her hand was on her shoulder and she was spinning her around. Rinslet's face was framed with her lavender locks and her green eyes were sad. "What are you doing here?" She added softly.

She would have said it, but what was the point? What could they have done anyways?

It could have been her eyes that told her or maybe Rins already knew or maybe it was obvious or it was just her rumpled clothes or the fact that she clearly wasn't going to answer, but Rins fell to her knees and pulled her into a hug.

And they stayed like that for a long time.

* * *

Train Heartnet had gotten sick of sitting in the hotel room waiting for something to happen. It felt like a waste. It was a waste.

He had slipped out around midday, and had let his feet roam over the rooftops. It had given him ample time to decide that he would need a Chronos member to follow back to their base. He doubted one would tell him. Another assumption was that their base was near here. For him to have seen three Time Guardians in the space of a day, there had to be a hellhole they were spewing out of somewhere around here.

So, basically, he needed another Guardian. They seemed to be walking right into him recently, but he didn't want to wait longer for that. Then it had occurred to him if there was a base near here, Janus would be in town because Rins was in town, and all he would have to do was go to the place Rins was staying in town to find the man. So he had walked to a building across the street from her apartment, and sat there.

It was quite climatic.

At first he had sat there because he didn't want to walk in there and face her. It was an alien feeling, and he couldn't figure why he couldn't take an accusatory glance from her. He couldn't take what she would say to him. Then he realized it didn't matter what he could or couldn't take because she wasn't home.

And he had to wait.

Then he heard the noise.

"Black Cat." The words slithered out of the darkness, whispers on air.

He turned his head swiftly and frowned into the face of Ruguto Won. A man whom he really didn't expect to see, and whom he didn't feel like talking too.

On the other hand, Shaolee Lin was trying incredibly hard not to smile behind his new face. Because if he smiled he laughed and today he had perfected his evil laugh. Everything was falling into place, and whenever he thought of it he fell into a fit of giggles.

It was as if the universe was setting the pieces in front of him so he wouldn't have to go out of his way to create his masterpiece. Spontaneity definitely wasn't his thing, but when opportunity arose...

Him talking to the Black Cat again so soon probably wasn't a good idea, and hadn't been in the original plan; he hadn't even found out about this new face Ruguto Won until today! Yet here he was, risking it all, because he knew there was no risk if there was divine help on his side.

But this hadn't even been the first stroke of impulsiveness, he had been running around trying to figure out where the nanomachine girl Sephiria was after had got too. He had been in a particular back alley when he came across a warehouse that the city was using to store firecrackers. There might have been a reason for them in the future, but when Shaolee came across them their destinies reached a fork in the road. He thought it wonderfully fitting that there should be fireworks for dear dead Sven. Especially since Train Heartnet's last partner-in-crime had died during a light-festival.

How did he know that? He knew everything of course.

He knew that if he set off the fireworks now, the Black Cat would be sure to watch them. And what better place to watch fireworks than from a rooftop, one of his favorite vantage points regardless? He knew poor mourning Train would be close to them too, but not close enough to be seen, and so all he had to do was some guess and check and _voila! _here he was. Right in front of the Black Cat.

_Now… to feed him the wrong information._

"Black Cat, there are a whirlwind of events taking place, and because I respect you as a fighter I won't let them suck you in."

"A little late for the warning, but thanks."

"You know?" He questioned, acting surprised.

Train looked like he was about to answer for a moment, but then paused. Finally he said, "Know what?"

Shaolee hurried to stand closer to him so that the face of Ruguto would look more earnest. "Sephiria, she hired me."

"To kill me? What, to afraid to fight me herself?"

So bitter! Ah, how sweet. "No, Black Cat. She hired me to kidnap the young girl that travels with you."

"Eve!?" Train jumped up, ready to attack him even if she wasn't around to save. "What does that witch want with her?"

"She means to kill her, I'm almost sure of it. Chronos is coming after you, Black Cat."

"Why!" Shaolee could hear Train's knuckles pop as he clenched his fists. "It doesn't make any sense!" Train took a few calming breaths then added quietly, "Where is she now, is she alright?"

He tried looking sheepish for a moment but decided it was too difficult, and so went with deep depression. "I tried to hide her from them, but they took her. I am sorry Black Cat."

"Argh!" He roared, pain lancing through his voice, "And stop calling me that!"

The Chronos Number had to bite his lip to keep from smirking. This was going to be a huge gash into Train's mental state. "But that's who you are."

"No!" Train swiveled around and his black cloak billowed in his created wind; the ragged dark collar hiding his face.

"At least, that is who you have to be."

"Leave Me!"

The fireworks were coming to a close and people were going back to their homes. From Shaolee's vantage point, he had seen Train seethe for a long time before going back to sulking (or maybe just sitting) on the rooftop. _It won't be long now until he explodes. _

Then, third times the charm, the universe brought him another piece. He felt compelled to look down to the street below the two of them and was beyond surprised to find the object of his searches that day walking into an apartment with one self-employed thief who happened to be affiliated with multiple Time Guardians. Eve and Rinslet Walker. _Why has your subconscious brought you here, Train Heartnet?_

After that thought, however, a slew of new ones came in. When an opportunity knocks…

_Kranz, you might prove even more useful yet.

* * *

_

**End of Chapter Five.**

Wow you guys. This has been a long time coming. I just don't have a passion for writing Black Cat anymore is why. I have no inspiration and that's stabbing at my fingers. If it's any consolation I'm going to be doing a lot of writing today, hopefully. I want to get out two of the chapters for RW today. I'm really hungry. Well. If you guys want to review and keep me going, please go right ahead. I won't abandon this story, but I'm going to have to beat myself over the head to make myself sit down and write it.

**Blabbering about the story, it will be long, skip if you want.**

So, the reason it took me forever to finish this is because I read it over and over whenever I write it, and it was making me sick. I just didn't like the flow of the chapter and I never was in the mood to edit. But today I had a whole day and I was like, let's just finish that damn chapter. Then I wrote this in like less than an hour. Editing is a bitch though, and has taken more than an hour to do. Does this really take an hour to read y'all? Sorry about that. But anyways, after re-reading this after a long time of not looking at it, I didn't mind it. And it basically made sense. Hopefully. It might have just made sense because I knew what was going on. If you have no idea I'll tell you the main points... (This is the timeline I wrote for myself)

Timeline:

Throughout day

1) Shaolee's flashback convo with Belze.--loyalties. (This is about Ruguto. I know, that doesn't make sense, bear with me. Ruguto is important to Sephiria and Belze right now.)

2) Eve finds Sven.

3) Ruguto/Belze/Tiayou. (Belze takes Tearju back to headquarters and puts some ideas into Ruguto's head. That's what he _tries_ to do anyways. The secret important part is about Ruguto's kindness.)

4) Janus/RinsNecklace. Leave apartment. (More Rinslet hating on Janus)

5) Shaolee/Kranz convo. (Sets up next chapter when Kranz and Shaolee begin going after Eve and Rinslet.)

**Fireworks **(When the fireworks start...)

6) Call from Chronos. Janus/Rins. (More Rinslet hating on Janus. Also showing that Rinslet is kind of 'over' Janus, in a way. The phone call is Sephiria calling Janus back. He's on a mission which we'll here about...next time?)

7) Eve wakes up. (I realized that I accidentally have Train give his jacket to Rins and put his jacket over Sven. Plotholes. I guess he had an extra in the closet with his black cloak. Anyway, the main point is that Eve calls the police so Sven's body won't rot in the house, and she gets to mourn a bit. We also see a bit about why she isn't talking.)

8) Rins Thinking about not finding Train in hotel. Finds Eve. (The two men were so amusing to me.)

9/10) Shaolee spying. Train on rooftop. Talks to Ruguto (Train is REALLY mad at Sephiria right now. Shaolee's plan, though, is to get Train so crazy and with such a feeling that living is useless that he'll finally kill himself. He plans on Train taking out Sephiria in the process, however. He thinks Train can't be killed unless he kills himself. So that might help explain all his crazy talk. Shaolee also ends up finding out that Train is near Rinslet's house. That's going to bring him into his "plan." Which, so far, if anyone has been paying attention, is basically killing or pretending people are dead. Oh well. It's elaborate I tell you! I also tried to get in some Train thinking about Rinslet. I hope that came across. It's hard to do a romance for this fic. I'll have you know I already have the kiss scene written out since I'm a nerd like that, but I don't know where to put it in.)

I hope y'all like that long thing, and I hope it helps if you didn't get it. Sparknotes for the chapter.

My favorite part of the fic is the first part with Shaolee. The first paragraph is so awesome. (For me.) The italics part at the beginning is "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". I love the full version of that song. Uhm. I think that's everything. I hope this was worth the wait!

* * *


	6. One is the Loneliest Number

**+ if anyone has completely forgotten the plotline, pm me and I'll send you a summary.**

_"You sleep and no mosquito eat you. But the truth is, it bound to happen if you stay long enough. So take that nice picture you got in your head home with you, but don't be fooled. We lonely here mostly too." --Meet Joe Black_There was a beauty in the small piece of technology she clasped in her hand--a uniform smooth curve and a peerless white plastic coating. Even the polished wheel that spun to encircle each of the ten numbers spun without the slightest squeak. The painted numbers on the old-fashioned telephone seemed to mock her in their beauty and perfection. They had an order, simplicity, and meaning that she never attained.

* * *

That was the main reason she had it removed from her office—although now Belze had to bring it back so she could call Number…(Janus).

The phone rang twice before he answered.

"Seven."

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Tonight?"

"As soon as possible."

"…Yes ma'am."

"I really need to speak with Heartnet, Janus." She hoped she didn't sound as tired as she felt. "But there's no way to find him now that Baldor's dead. I need him to come to me while I still have something over his head."

"You want to talk to—" He cut himself off (you don't question your leader).

"I don't want any more of my team dead. I don't want to have to fight Train, because he was one of us at a time. I don't want ­_any_ of this fighting anymore.

"That's why I want his companion. He'll refrain from hurting any of you if he thinks she's in danger—and he'll come straight to me.

"I want you to do this because I know your Rinslet Walker can get in touch with her. I need you to bring me the young nano-machine girl, Janus, or I need you to bring me Train Heartnet very, very securely tied up."

There was a slight pause. She could tell Janus was confused—that he knew her plan made little sense—but then he responded with a "yes ma'am, I'll see you soon," and a flat line moments later.

She continued speaking to the dial tone; it was basically the same thing and just as equally non-therapeutic.

"I know the idea of talking to Train seems strange, but he knows freedom, and I need a reassurance that it does exist before I run after it.

"And I need him to give me that freedom. I need him to give me death. Running myself through with my own sword is not the image I want to pass on, besides the fact that I don't even have the guts to do it.

"Belze will take my place. He's been doing such a great job all these years. And I've set up for Ruguto Won to take the place of Baldor. If Belze decides to train him, everything could be running smoothly months after I'm gone. Easily. Back to normal.

"You just have to understand that I'm sick of fighting—I just told you that. I'm sick of the mind games, and the constant struggle to keep things out of chaos. I've lived my whole life in this organization, and guess what? 'Crime is up'. Summary of my life—'crime is up'. This organization was created to help and protect the people, but we never did any of that. We killed people, and said it was for the balance. You understand what I'm getting at don't you? Aren't you sick of this too?"

* * *

The future Number VIII felt really cool at the moment. What a master of secrecy he was, what a clever carrot. Batman with his giant computer in the basement would be so proud…

…Not.

All Ruguto knew about the master thief at the moment, or all he'd bothered to commit to memory, was that she was a 'she' and her last name was Walker. And now he knew she was living in town—or at least that was what he was hoping. He knew for sure she was _in_ town, and _this _was his only option to figuring out just exactly _where_. Which brought him to the awesome, clever, amazingly tricky, mastermindish, carroty plan of…

…Looking in the phone book.

So at the moment he was standing in a phone booth on some random corner in the wee hours of the morning while he thumbed through the yellow pages confusedly. Definitely cool.

He came upon six Walkers, all glaringly unfamiliar sounding, and 4 Walkets that he decided to include in his mental list just in case. He shifted the three guyish sounding first names to its bottom.

He had a rough sketch of the town in his head from visiting so often for the information the Don had. He used it now to partially arrange the addresses in an order of closeness to avoid 'flitting' around and wasting time.

The martial artist only worried about one thing…what the hell he was going to say when he met her. That she was "an idiot and didn't understand anything" like last time on the bridge? Or just randomly show up at her place and be like "The Black Cat and his companions are in danger and I want to help you save them"? "And not just because I want to fight the Black Cat again, but because…" But because what? Because it was the right thing to do? Because the lady didn't deserve to be held captive by the two Numbers? Because the young girl's tenacity was unique and she deserved to not have that taken away? Did normal people say things like that or was that reserved for actors? He was good at acting…but this wasn't acting…and he felt at such a loss.

He just didn't know how to work _with_ someone. Even talking to that blonde lady in her house had been so _awkward_. He had pretty much kidnapped them when he was trying to help them. "_It's ridiculous! I can't be friendly! I'm so bad at being good!"_

He stormed out of the booth and tried slamming the doors behind him. To his chagrin, the glass doors were on pressurized hinges so his force was caught, and the doors closed softly. Grinding his teeth, he yanked the doors back open, picked up the phone book, and ripped out the page with all the addresses on it.

It didn't change his problematic lonerness, but acting like a badass did make him feel less nervous.

Kranz woke. In the time a normal human would rub blearily at their eyes and find a clock to check exactly what time it was, the blind man had completely skipped the eye-rubbing (since that never changed anything), and deduced that it was early morning because of how damp the air tasted.

Next, as a person's first thoughts would be 'coffee' or 'what happened to my shorts, better yet, my wallet?', Kranz was on his feet immediately, grabbing a spare dagger from underneath a mat and heading out to meet his first thought of the day… "Shaolee Lin."

It didn't take him long to find said thought. No one watched Baldor's window, so he easily got out of the compound, and he knew exactly where that bastard would be waiting for him. Where Baldor died.

The smell of coppery blood was still remotely in the air from the other night. Standing in this position, then Baldor's mangled body would have been a few steps to his right…and the Black Cat—he was pulled abruptly from his thoughts as the manipulative Time Guardian grabbed him by the shoulder and slipped the both of them into the shadows.

"So, where's this girl?"

"In a more opportune place than I could have hoped for," the small man hummed. "Surrounded by her two remaining friends, who will now have to watch her die."

"Three against two doesn't seem very opportune to me."

"You just leave Train to me. You should be able to take two girls."

Kranz could feel his smirk (and he was definitely tempted to slash it off his face). "Fine. Well let's get on with this while they're unaware."

"Actually," Shaolee tapped a finger against his chin, pondering what he already knew he was going to say. "I needed to go have a talk with a certain martial artist. You'll just have to wait till I get back—since you can't do it without me."

"I could handle it myself if I wanted to. Now where is she?"

"Hmmm, I forgot." He let the silence hang over them for a few moments before chuckling. "Number VII's girlfriend's house. I'm sure you know exactly where Janus has been running off too."

Kranz snorted and made to leave the deserted square, but Shaolee wasn't done until he'd had his last laugh.

"Don't go off without me, though, it's dangerous!" Then, before the partnerless guardian could register it, Shaolee had stepped forward and teasingly tapped his nose twice.

The first slash of his Orihalcon dagger found nothing of the jokester, and in those last few moments in that shadowed corner, Kranz was acutely aware of

just

how

alone

he

was.

* * *

Doctor Tearju was pacing.

Yes, she was worried about what these Chronos members wanted with them, and she was worried about Eve's safety. She was wondering if this Ruguto Won had planned on turning them in all along, or really did try to help them, or if he had some ulterior motive altogether. And if he had some evil plan, if Eve still trusted him enough to cause her to be thrown in a cell like herself. She wondered where Eve had gone off to, and if she'd found Sven or Train yet. She definitely was worried about Eve, but hell! She was even more worried about herself! However, these weren't the reasons she was creating a canal in the floor under her feet.

Truthfully, Doctor Tearju _really_ had to pee.

"C'mon! Isn't anybody out there!?" She shook the bars. "This isn't the boy who cried wolf. I'm about to turn into Niagara Falls from the waist down!"

She listened…and heard nothing. (Luckily there wasn't the sound of water steadily dripping.)

"Augh!" She fell to the floor and lay on her back--tried to take a few meditative breaths.

This was ridiculous. She couldn't even think straight. Maybe if she didn't have to concentrate so much on her urethra rupturing, she could look around the world outside the bars and maybe piece together a little bit of the entire puzzle.

Like, for example, the man who had knocked her out, who obviously was a number like Train, had…

Damn! It was almost painful how badly she needed a bathroom!

She sighed if they didn't get her within the next hour, she was going to pee in the corner. She opened her eyes to see just what the implications of that would be…and came face to face with her captor.

He had unlocked the door and been looking down at her for who knew how long. Amazing she hadn't heard him.

"I don't think the Canadians would be very happy if we created another Niagara."

"They can learn to deal with it; they've already got Seneca on their hands."

He smiled that smile that didn't reach his eyes, bent down, and swung her over his shoulder.

"Where are you taking me?" She questioned nervously, her hands ready to grab him by the throat.

"Would Madame Falls _not_ like to go to the john?"

"Still mademoiselle, actually." She quieted down. She was a doctor and a scientist, and when there was a problem, the scientific method was the first thing to run through her mind.

1. Define the Question

2. Gather Information

3. Form hypothesis

4. Perform an experiment

Define the question, define the question. She only had a limited amount of time with the man before she would be put back into solitude again. What was her question!?

"Why am I here?"

"You are heading towards the restroom. I'm starting to wonder if you _did_ cry wolf."

"Oh you are humorous aren't you? Now seriously, why capture me? I'm not going to build you—"

"We're not asking you to build anything. We didn't even want you in the first place. But you were better than nothing."

"It's good to know I'm worth more than nothing." _Gathering information…_ "I'm assuming you wanted Eve…correct?"

The tall blue-eyed man glanced up at her, not suspiciously, but definitely curiously. "Correct."

…Less than a minute later she had concluded that 2. They weren't going to hurt her or Eve…yet. Who knew how long his promises would last? They really were after Train. 3. They were using her (preferably Eve) as bait to bring Train in but keep him from hurting anyone else. 4. An experiment was iffy so there would be no new hypothesis. There was one central fact, however, that Chronos was discounting—Sven.

She shifted so her legs weren't locked so tightly beneath his arm and returned to staring at his back. This was the best experiment she could come up with--so she hoped it helped her out.

"You do know Sven will save me, right? And if Eve was here, she could break out herself, and if she couldn't, he would be here within hours. Who would you use to supposedly 'keep Train passive' then?"

"Hmph." He cracked his knuckles on his thigh. He had really big hands, and if she thought about it too much, she always pictured him crushing her knees into a bloody pulp. "Sven wouldn't be able to break in here on his own. At the very least, XIII would have to distract the other Guardians." With his thumb he kneaded his lower lip thoughtfully. "Vice verse for the option of Train breaking you out. And because of this conclusion," he patted the back of her kneecaps, "I have nothing to worry about."

"What are you talking about, you have everything to worry about."

He stopped walking. His neck rippled and creased as he looked over his shoulder at the woman he carried. Mouth set in a grim line, he stared at her solemnly. She could only stare up at him through her glasses and hope that, whatever he was about to say, Sven, Eve, and Train would overcome it.

"Your friend is dead. The police received a call last night, and after tracing it, found the inspectors body. I'm sorry that I was the first to tell you this. (He didn't look so merciful anymore). To reiterate, I promised no harm will come to you, don't forget that."

He set her down on the ground, leaned her back against the wall. "We have also reached a suitable washroom." He bent down, passed a hand in front of her face. "Mademoiselle?"

"Mademoiselle?"

**I know, this chapter is short. Still a chapter, so not "0", but still "dx". Calculus! **

**It just sounds better seperated from the next part. And it's taking me forever to write the fight scene. Bleh. I was going to write it, but then I was like, I better update something. **

**In case you're wondering why Train, Rinslet, Janus, or Eve didn't really make an appearance...it's because they're in the fight scene. Hmm!! Hopefully that's enough incentive to keep whatever reviewers I might have...**

**+ The title is based off a song. I don't know who sings it but in my head it's a man singing. "One is the loneliest number that you'll ever know..." Those are the only lyrics I remember.**


End file.
